Show Me the Way Home
by SSJKarigan
Summary: Overwhelmed by the stress of recent life events, a young woman takes refuge at a favorite childhood spot at the forest preserve. By accident she falls into the river and nearly drowns, only to be rescued by a man from another world on his way to Rivendell. He offers to take her home before joining the Fellowship and now she won't let him out of it when her memory beings to fade.
1. Prologue - Positive Stress

Prologue – Positive Stress

**Summary:** Overwhelmed by the stress of recent life events, a young woman takes refuge at a favorite childhood spot at the forest preserve. By accident she falls into the river and nearly drowns, only to be rescued by a man from another world on his way to Rivendell. He offers to take her home before joining the Fellowship and now she won't let him out of it when her memory beings to fade.

**Disclaimer:** I do not claim ownership of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, The Hobbit, or the Silmarillion. I also do not claim ownership of Peter Jackson's films based on the aforementioned novels. There will be no monetary gain as a result of this fan-made work, and it is intended purely for entertainment purposes. Please, please, please don't sue me! I have so much student debt as it is...

**AN:** I would like to say that I originally began writing this fanfic for personal pleasure. It was not my intention to ever publish it but after lots and lots of encouragement my friend convinced me to do it. Anyway, there seems to be a deficit of good Boromance on here... Though I will say I have found a few good gems that I've really enjoyed and I realize maybe other people might enjoy this, too. It is not intended to be Mary Sue, and I genuinely don't believe it is. I assure you there will be no lack of updating – I've already written about 84 single-spaced pages in Microsoft Word. Expect updates about once a week while the summer lasts (I'm pursuing a Masters in I/O Psychology right now, so during the school year I get super busy – give me 2-3 weeks during that time).

Also, please feel free to provide criticism. The best way to grow as a writer is to receive feedback (in fact, feedback is important for any skill you want to develop, but I digress). I'm also open to input in terms of the direction of the story – while I have already written a great deal, I find myself editing and re-editing all the time, so _please_ provide feedback if you have any! Most of my ideas for the story come from discussing it with my friends and debating the possibilities. I'd love to do the same with all you readers!

Anyways, this first chapter is just a prologue that I very recently added to give you a chance to get to know the main character. It offers a little back story about her life situation directly before transportation to Middle Earth. However, if you prefer you can skip it and still understand the story. Like I said, if you want to know the main character better, it should be helpful. (By the way, these author's notes will never be this long in the future, haha.)

**_Warning: The M rating is for the high probability of lemons later on._**

* * *

The morning air was uncharacteristically cool as a young woman stepped outside her door. A harsh wind whipped past and she shivered before turning to head back into the townhouse. It was late June and yet the recent stormy weather managed to bring the temperature down to the low sixties. She jogged upstairs to her room, the one with the walls completely covered with posters and wall scrolls: a map of Westeros hung next to a poster of Johnny Cash flipping the bird, beside a wall scroll of Vegeta, and beside that, a wall scroll of Link. At 22 years of age she still held onto her favorite tales.

She glanced at her cell phone sitting on her computer desk. A flashing blue light indicated a new text message. Her eyes went from her door to the phone, and she gave into the urge to check. It was a text from her good friend, Derek, which read:

Catch later today? We have beeeeer.

PS: Andrew bought new arrows and a glove.

The girl smiled and quickly typed her response before setting the phone back down. She hesitated a moment and contemplated whether or not she truly wanted to leave her digital connection to the world at home. Suddenly the phone came to life, the strong vibrations rattling the entire desk as the Tristram theme song filled her room. "Aaron…" she muttered, and remembered why she intended to leave the phone behind, the reason she decided to go for a walk in the first place. Furthermore, the reason she moved back home with her father: after three years with the same man, she realized she could no longer tolerate his alcoholism. He, however, had no desire to end the relationship, and in the last week his calls and texts came endlessly.

She sighed, pulled on a brown zip-up hoody, and left the room without another thought about the phone. She would not allow herself to regret her decision – the change was difficult but good, her friends and family told her. Positive stress was the term they used in psychology, the kind that came from happy life events, like weddings or the birth of children. _Or breaking up with jerks, _she added in her head. As she passed through the kitchen she stole a glance at a particular piece of mail she opened just that morning. Another bit of so-called positive stress…

That morning she received a letter of acceptance from her first choice of graduate schools. While this news was undoubtedly good, she found herself overwhelmed by the prospect of such a challenge. She would have to acclimate to a new school, new professors, and meet new people. Butterflies danced wickedly in her stomach and she averted her gaze. A walk was in order, a nice quiet walk, with no interruptions from Aaron, where should could gather her thoughts. She left the townhouse and locked the door behind her, setting out towards the little path through the woods just a few blocks away.

With the advent of her acceptance letter she also wondered whether or not she should leave her second job at the bicycle store. She began working there when she was just 17, a high school kid, and she knew she would miss the guys if she left... But the heavy course load she expected to receive in graduate school left her apprehensive about working fulltime. _Besides_, she reasoned, _I still have my weekend job at the hospital._

She jammed her hands in the pockets of her hoody, disgruntled about her indecisiveness on the matter. Her friend Erin was looking for a roommate and she would happily oblige, but her weekend job alone wouldn't cut it if she had to pay rent; then add utilities, groceries, all those miscellaneous expenses into the mix, plus all the things she surrendered to Aaron that she would have to buy new, like dressers and cutlery. She could feel a headache coming on. Not only that, but she wanted to get ahead on her student loans from undergrad, especially now that she'd have to take out more loans for graduate school. She halted a moment. "But if leave the bike shop… ugh," she grunted. She continued to walk, turning off the sidewalk into the opening of the forest path. She could hear the river bumbling along next to the path, and her frown began to fade into a faint smile.

She always liked the little river – "The Mighty Duper" people called it in her hometown, the good old Du Page River. She'd waded through it with her brothers and the neighborhood boys too many times to count, as the water was shallow and the current gentle. She played and biked between the trees of the forest preserve just a little ways up the path – maybe _her _tree was still there, and she decided she would go and find out.

It took only a few moments for the river to come into view as the path leaned in closer to the water. The young woman stepped through the short foliage at the edge of the water and peered down at her reflection. Distorted as it was, she could see her oval-shaped face and straight nose, her hazelnut brown hair that went down just past her shoulders. A small smile crept across her lips; her bottom lip was fuller than the top, but both before and after braces people told her she had a pretty smile. A small, black ring pierced her bottom lip on the left side to match the black industrial bar in her right ear. She pushed her long bangs behind her ears and gingerly made her way back to the path, anxious to find her old spot in the forest preserve.

* * *

I commend you if you made it through the dull prologue, but hey, I have to introduce my OC somehow, right? Now head on over to the first chapter where things start to get interesting! Also, reviews are always appreciated! Thanks for reading :)

-SSJKarigan


	2. Swimming to Middle Earth

Chapter I – Swimming to Middle Earth

AN: I would like to reiterate that this chapter sort of dives right into the story. So if it seems like too abrupt of a start go back and read the prologue. Otherwise well... you'll just have to deal with it. Also, a brief physical description was included at the end of the prologue if you need a visual. Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

The young woman walked for some time before reaching the little forest park. She hiked down a few seldom trodden paths, muddy from the recent, heavy rainfall, until she found the big tree whose limbs reached out across the river. She climbed and lay down along a thick branch that hung high above the little rapids. Looking down she could see that the river had flooded and grown wild since the storm's passing. She turned onto her back and stared through the branches at the gray sky.

Would that she could hide away in her tree forever and forget her various cares and obligations. The silence that followed her decision to leave her cell at home was well worth missing a few text messages. Now she could hear only the gentle rumble of water rushing over rock and the chatter of birds and squirrels; all welcome sounds. The clamor of the roadway nearby was largely muffled. A small breeze picked up and she lifted her hand to feel it whirl between her outstretched fingers. After the breeze passed she let her hand fall to dangle limply at her side. She didn't know how much time passed before she felt her eyelids grow heavy. It couldn't hurt to shut them for just a few moments, just a few, and then she would head back home…

She awoke with the shock of being engulfed in violent, frigid water. Before she knew it, the river's unusually swift current began dragging her downstream. She had swum the river many times growing up, but she had never witnessed the river thrash along its bed so angrily. She tried to right herself but the rapids tossed her about like a rag doll, slamming her into rocks and pulling her beneath the surface. There was something unnatural about the state of the river she had always known to be so mild. In most places the river was shallow enough to walk along the bottom without the water coming past her waist. Now she found herself floundering to keep her head above the surface.

Everything transformed to a blur of white foam and sea green water. Each breath came at a greater struggle than the last. Soon her gasping breaths came less and less while the river continued to beat her down. Panic and terror overtook her thoughts as she desperately tried to claw her way back to the surface. She had always been good at swimming, why couldn't she right herself now? Perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by lack of oxygen, but a great, booming voice suddenly filled her head. It spoke in dark tongues that she could not understand. The last she felt was a sharp spike of pain in her skull, then blackness…

Next she knew strong hands were pulling her out of the water and she met the ground with a hard thud. The solid earth felt queer beneath her body, but the stillness offered more comfort to her than a mother's voice to her child. She sputtered and coughed into the dirt, too exhausted to sit up just yet. "Are you alright?" asked an unfamiliar voice. She felt the warmth of a hand against her back.

"I think so," she responded in a ragged voice before she coughed up the rest of the water in her lungs. She doggedly pushed herself up and took a look at her rescuer. He was handsome enough but his clothing reminded her of the Renaissance fair. Or perhaps he dressed that way because he was some kind of park ranger? He gave her an appraising look, apparently just as surprised by _her_ appearance. Despite his uneasy gaze, he unclasped his cloak and held it out for her to take.

"It would be best to use my cloak until yours has dried," he said. To match his Renaissance period clothing, he spoke with the appropriate accent. A wry half smile crept across her lips and she wondered if she had, indeed, stumbled upon such an event.

"Thanks," she said. She fumbled to peel off her soaked brown hoody. The saturated fabric looked almost black, and so did her hair that sat plastered about her cheeks and forehead. Once it came off, the man quickly draped his cloak around her shoulders and briskly rubbed his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to get her dry. "That's alright," she said, inching away from him, "I really appreciate that, and thank you for catching me but... I really need to get home, now." After handing his cloak back, she glanced around for a sign of the fair, but all around them were just trees and more trees. Save for the sounds of birds and the pattering of squirrels, silence filled the air. Even the faint hum of cars could not be heard.

"Do you live nearby?" he asked incredulously, and he too began to look around for signs of civilization. As far as he could tell the closest they were to anything had to be the Elf city, and he still had no idea where _exactly_ that was. He looked closer for pointed ears, but she appeared to be a young human girl.

She furrowed her brows, unable to detect anything remotely familiar about their surroundings. "I don't know..." she said quietly, spinning around in her confusion, "How far did I float? What town are we in?"

"There are no towns nearby that I know of," he answered slowly.

Her hand immediately reached for her cell phone in her back pocket, but then she remembered leaving it at home and that, even if she had it, it would have been ruined in the water. She growled obscenities to herself.

"Fear not, if you are lost you may travel with me," he offered. She stared at him pensively. It was then he noticed a small, black ring sitting upon her lip – a piercing similar to those seen more commonly amongst Southron people. However, the girl bore no other similarities to the Men of the South – her skin was relatively fair and her eyes were a light shade of hazel. He could not say what color hair she had until it dried, but he felt confident she was neither Southron nor Easterling. Still, there was no reason to be overly trusting of this strange girl.

"That's alright," she said in a more even tone, reminding herself not to be rude to the man who saved her life, "I mean, I'm sorry I just don't know where I am or anything. Is there a Renaissance fair going on somewhere or... something?"

"Fair?" he scoffed, "I should think not." Her eyes narrowed. All things considered, now was not the time to make annoying jokes or attempt to "stay in character."

"Whatever..." she muttered. "Do you have a cell phone I could borrow at least?"

"Come again?" he said.

"A phone... if I called my dad I'm sure he would know where this was and he could come pick me up or something," she said impatiently.

"I am not sure what a 'phone' is," he said dismissively, "Have you been injured? Please, you should keep yourself warm." Again he tried to offer her his cloak.

She turned away, holding her hands over her face and growled, "Can you please just knock it off and tell me how to get back into town or whatever?"

"Would that I could," he replied with waning patience, "But it is as I said, I have not seen a single village for many miles."

"What are you even talking about?" she snapped, "How can that even... what..?" she trailed off helplessly.

"Perhaps you are not feeling well... Let me make a fire. Once you warm up and have something to eat you might feel... better," he tried.

"Make a fire?" she asked, turning around and looking at him suspiciously, "Is this a campground or something? Is that where we are? Because I'm pretty sure you can't just go around making fires in the woods..."

"I do not know what you mean," he replied despairingly. His patience was growing thin with the strange woman, but it was not in his heart to turn her away. After all, a noble man like himself would not abandon a helpless woman in the wilderness, especially one that was so obviously disoriented. Perhaps she was ill or hit her head, he reasoned. He _had _just plucked her from the river...

"Is there really nothing nearby?" she asked quietly, accepting the cloak from him at last. Even a gentle breeze made her skin prickle. How could they not be in _any _town? It was simply inconceivable to think that there was any unclaimed territory in the United States. Even places that were not technically towns (or cities, or villages, or _something_) were at least national parks or native reservations. But even so, she knew of no such place nearby...

"Unfortunately, yes. You must have drifted far," he said, "I have been traveling for weeks and have not seen any villages in at least thirty leagues, perhaps more."

"How many miles is that?" she asked, trying to see if she could remember. Her face relaxed as she considered the conversion.

"_Many _miles," he said dismissively, "That matters little."

"But wait; is this a park or something?" Eileen tried again.

The man clenched his jaw in aggravation and calmly stated, "No. The best explanation I have is that we are in the wilderness."

"How... I don't understand," Eileen said despondently. She looked down at the ground, frowning sadly as she asked, "Why won't you just tell me where we are? Are you going to murder me, or rape me or something?"

"Murder you?" he huffed angrily, "Why would I pull you from the river if I wanted you dead?"

Immediately guilt washed over her and she apologized, trying to explain, "It's just... we're in the middle of nowhere and you never know these days..." She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "There are plenty of evil people out there who would hurt you just because they felt like it..."

Whatever anger he felt subsided and he sighed. Her statement was true; a young woman such as herself had every right to be wary of strangers. "I promise I will do you no harm... pardon my rudeness, I have not asked your name," he said softly.

"Eileen," she answered guardedly, "What's your name?"

"Boromir," he answered. Eileen extended her hand for a customary handshake, but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips. Surprised and uncomfortable, she quickly pulled her hand back the moment he released it. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he said with a small, forced smile before adding, "Though perhaps not under the best circumstances..."

_A hand shake would have been fine_, she thought uneasily as she re-wrapped her arms around herself. Maybe he was foreign or something. His accent _did_ sound genuine... but she still couldn't understand why he was dressed that way if there really wasn't a Renaissance fair going on. When she scanned the surrounding area there didn't appear to be anything for miles. What else could she do but trust him? Run off and get eaten by a bear?

"If you'll follow me, I made camp just a little ways into the woods," Boromir said.

"So you _are_ camping?" she asked, breathing a sigh of relief. That would certainly explain a lot. Maybe he liked to rough it and wear old school gear. Hell, if it were more socially acceptable, she'd dress like that every day. He didn't reply but she followed nonetheless. They walked for a few minutes before she saw what he meant by "made camp." There stood a horse in small clearing; no tent, no grill, no path to the other campsites. By the looks of it he had just put out a fire.

"The cinders are still hot, I should be able to get a fire going quickly," he explained, walking away to find kindling. Eileen swallowed and peered up at the sky. When she left home it was early afternoon, but the sun was low in the Eastern sky, as if it were morning now. Had a day passed already? Had she slept the entire day and night before falling? The girl found the situation quite unnerving. She shivered and pulled the cloak tighter around herself before taking inventory of his "camp."

As he mentioned, a small pile of cinders smoked faintly in the middle of the little meadow. Off to the side stood his horse, restlessly shifting his weight from one leg to another. The poor beast waited impatiently, heavily laden with bags and a tightly rolled blanket. All of it felt like a scene from a fantasy novel - a man on an epic journey through the forests on horseback! Eileen approached the horse cautiously, curious to inspect the contents of the man's bags. The horse snorted and flicked his tail. Keeping a distance, she walked to the other side of the beast to find a round shield hanging from it's side. Her eyes widened. Boromir reappeared and she hurriedly stepped back.

"So um..." she said uncertainly, "What... well, what are you doing out in the middle of nowhere like this?"

"I have business nearby," he answered vaguely.

"Okay then," Eileen said skeptically, "But... why are you all by yourself, traveling through the woods and stuff on a horse? Wouldn't it be easier to take a car or something? And why are you dressed like that?"

"A cart?" he asked, shaking his head with disapproval, "There's no need for such excess. It would only slow my pace and draw attention. And I'm dressed for travel, of course, what a ridiculous question..." he muttered.

She wondered if he said "car" or "cart" and how on Earth a car could possibly slow someone down. Maybe he was some kind of hippy..? After all, he _was_ traveling by horseback and making food by fire. She reminded herself once again that he saved her life and to pry so much would be rude. Soon the fire came to life and its warmth was enticing. By this point she didn't care about getting dirty and plopped herself on the ground next to the small pyre. The effect was immediate, and soon she was soothed into a mild sense of security. "Thank you," she said, scooting in closer to the flames. He nodded and handed her a heel of bread along with a small portion of dried meat.

All at once she was struck with a hunger she had not realized before taking her first bite of bread. It took only a few mouthfuls before the bread was gone and quickly she began gnawing on the meat. It was tough but nice and salty. The man watched with both amusement and mild distaste.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly with a small laugh, "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

He smiled sadly and told her, "If we are to make it to our destination that is all I can spare for now."

"So we're really _that_ far from everything?" Eileen asked, her forehead creasing with concern.

"I still have a decent supply of food and I will find some if need be, but yes, we are very far from any place I know," he said grimly.

"I'm sorry for all this trouble," she said. She bit her lip.

"Don't be, it will be nice to have some company," he reassured with a genuine, though weary, smile. He thought for moment before asking, "How was it that you fell into the Loudwater?"

"Loudwater?" Eileen questioned, "I fell in the Du Page River."

"I know for certain this river is not called the 'Du Page,'" he replied with some annoyance.

"Seriously? No, the Du Page turns into the Des Plaines and there is no way I floated that far," Eileen insisted.

"The Loudwater is a very long river, and the Greyflood flows into it, and many little rivers into it," Boromir maintained, "I would not be surprised if your 'Du Page' also met the Loudwater."

"Tsh, what?" Eileen grunted, "When it gets right down to it, it ends up in the Mississippi, and that goes straight down into the ocean."

"I have never heard of this 'Mississippi," Boromir said with equal agitation.

"How can you be in the United States and not know about the Mississippi?" Eileen challenged haughtily.

"United States? I have heard of no such place and I will not tolerate this foolishness!" Boromir snapped.

Eileen stared at him wide-eyed like he was completely nuts. He was giving her an equally shocked look, suggesting that it was _she _who was nuts. "You're speaking _English_, how do you not know about the United States? Is this some kind of stupid joke?" Eileen snapped back.

"We are speaking in the Common Tongue of Middle Earth," Boromir corrected, trying to calm his own temper, "And we are, from what I can guess, far North of both Gondor and Rohan. There is no such place as the 'United States,' and the river you were floating in is the Loudwater." If she was messing with him he would not have it. Not during this long, exhausting journey that seemed to have no end, feeling utterly isolated and lost. He was uncertain of so many things lately, but he _did_ know that _she _was speaking nonsense.

"That's not funny," Eileen said unhappily with a deep set frown, "It's really not."

"Do I look amused to you?" he asked harshly, "I'm not." He stared at her, jaw tight, waiting for her stubborn, imprudent rebuttal. She seemed at a loss for words and her frown grew deeper while her eyes glazed over. "You're being sincere?" he asked more coolly.

She nodded, afraid to speak lest her voice reveal how close she was to tears. She took a breath and carefully said, "And you, too?"

"Perhaps... you are ill," he suggested with some concern in his voice. "A fever may change many thoughts," he reasoned. He strode to her place by the fire and squatted down to feel her face and forehead. If there was a subtle fever he never would have sensed it, but her skin blazed under his touch though she was shivering. He grimaced and sighed, standing once more to retrieve his water skin. "I plan to follow the river for some time so we will have plenty of water. Drink," he ordered.

Without question she drank and watched as he searched his supplies. It was true; there was nothing about the area that was familiar to her home state of Illinois. When she looked into to the East, was that the silhouette of a mountain she saw through the trees? There were absolutely no mountains in Illinois, none near the Mississippi that she could recall. Valley's and Starved Rock, sure, but those were not like the mountain range she now saw. Where he Hell was she? Her thoughts were interrupted when Boromir brought out a rough blanket and handed it to her.

"Are you warm?" he asked once she wrapped herself up. She nodded and took another sip of water.

"I suppose we shall wait until you have rested and dried some," he decided. Eileen nodded and sat silently, watching the flames dance, taking sips from the water skin until she was overcome by sleep.

~~~~~~~~_Dream Sequence~~~~~~~~_

_Eileen stood upon a desolate, ruined land where he only source of light came from of a fire hot and terrible. Her face glowed orange in the dim light that drew ever nearer. She flinched against the growing heat but could not take a single step away. The flames grew larger, and at the center of the fireball she saw a void blacker than any night sky and more sinister than her darkest fears. She heard a deep, inhuman voice speaking in tongues she could not understand. Then it hissed in the common tongue, "Come to me... come to me or perish." The great fireball drew closer until it enclosed her and burned the flesh from her bones..._

_~~~~~~~~End Dream Sequence~~~~~~~_

"I am sorry to wake you, but we must move on," a vaguely familiar voice said. She dimly perceived that she was, indeed, not aflame, but lying on the ground, tightly wrapped in the scratchy blanket. Though she was not on fire, she felt so hot she may as well have been... Boromir nudged her again and repeated, "Come, we must go." Awareness returned and she sucked in a breath as if she had been holding it for some time. She sat up and he could see her forehead shining with sweat. Completely out of breath, heart pounding she stared at Boromir for a few moments. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She held her head in her hand and shook her head, "It was just a dream, that's all... a weird dream." He leaned forward and touched her face.

"I had hoped your fever would break by sunset," he said with disappointment.

"Did you just say sunset?" she asked frantically. She looked around and realized the sun had already started to sink, "Did you let me sleep all day?"

"Yes, I presumed if you had ample time to rest you would feel well enough that we would not have to stop again," he explained.

"That makes sense," she mumbled, "But that means... oh man, people are going to worry when I don't come home. I hope Derek doesn't think I'm ditching him... I could go for that beer right about now..."

"Let us not dwell on such things, we must be moving on," Boromir said sternly as he stood. She frowned and slowly managed to stand. Already Boromir put out the fire and packed all but the blanket. "Come, I will help you ahorse," he said motioning to her. Swiftly he rolled and tied the blanket before securing it with the rest of his belongings. He helped her climb into the saddle and once she was firmly settled, Boromir climbed up behind her and took the reins.

"Forgive me for this familiarity," the man said stiffly.

"Huh? Oh... whatever," she murmured. He kicked the horse into a steady trot, and so began the girl's long journey through Middle Earth.

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If you liked it, let me know! If you hated it... still let me know! For those of you sticking around, I'll be posting Chapter II shortly, so see you then!

-SSJKarigan

P.S. I do intend to follow the book cannon for the most part. There are a few scenes from the movies that I thought were fun, like that drinking game between Legolas and Gimli. I also decided to let Boromir keep his horse... I hope you'll forgive me for that detail.


	3. Fitz and Dizzyspells

Chapter II - Fitz and Dizzyspells

Looks like I managed to get the second chapter up quicker than I anticipated. I really wanted to hold out and wait a week, but heck, what's the harm right?

* * *

Time passed uneventfully as they continued to follow the Loudwater North. In the beginning, Eileen made a marked effort to avoid as much bodily contact as possible, hunching forward while they travelled by horseback. Boromir said very little and maintained a demeanor of sterile courtesy. If there were any signs of civilization, Eileen could not detect them. All around them were the untamed woods and the aptly named Loudwater. Ever in the distance the mountains loomed to the East.

Not a moment went by without the girl thinking of food, or her saddle sores and stiff, aching muscles. Absently she wiped the sweat from her brow – on top of hunger and pain, her fever refused to break. Days had passed and they were yet to reach their destination in this land where people spoke English but didn't know of the United States. A few times she tried to bring it up with Boromir, but he responded by telling her she was "welcome search for the United States" herself._ How could this have happened?_ she wondered endlessly. She entertained herself with her imagination as the dull hours passed, toying with the idea that maybe, just maybe, she had found her way into some other world, like she read about in fantasy novels and fanfiction…

Perhaps she had become accustomed to her travel companion, perhaps she was too lost in thought to remember his presence, but one afternoon she began to hum quietly. A faint smile crept across the man's face, and softly he asked, "What are you humming?"

"Oh," she breathed, and let out a sheepish laugh, "Just some song..."

"Are there words?" he asked.

"Well, yea..." she answered cautiously.

"A song may help to pass the time," he suggested.

"What about being all stealthy and stuff?" she reminded him sourly. If ever she tried to make conversation he would scold her about the importance passing through the wilderness unnoticed. God only knew what he kept on the look-out for. As far as she knew, the only threats they faced were bears and wolves, perhaps mountain lions depending on the region, but wouldn't the noise frighten such animals away? Thinking about the carnivorous beasts possibly prowling around made her question her assumptions… She swallowed nervously.

"So long as you refrain from belting, I imagine we will still go unnoticed," he reasoned.

"The only person to ever tell me I was good at singing is helplessly in love with me," Eileen said sadly, thinking of her friends and family back home. Derek, the one who thought she had a beautiful voice, must have grown worried the moment she didn't show up to his house that evening or answer his texts for that matter. When Free Pie Wednesday rolled around, Maggie and their friends would wonder where she was and why she suddenly fell off the face of the Earth. And what about work? Poor Karah would have to assemble charts all alone... Then there was the bike shop, too. On the bright side she was planning on quitting anyways, or would she? At least classes were out…

"I am also not very good at singing," he admitted, "Be that as it may, I think it would be nice to hear a song."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she said reluctantly.

"Fair enough."

She opened her mouth to begin, then hesitated, cleared her throat, then hesitated again. She shifted anxiously in the saddle, and then glanced back at him with a disgruntled expression. For the first time in the days they had traveled together, his smile reached his eyes. "I'm not going to make you," he laughed.

"I'll do it, I'll do it," she insisted, "I just... I need a minute, and I'll do it."

"As you say," he replied with doubt and amusement. A long pause followed, and he wondered whether or not she would actually sing. Just when he felt certain she would not, quietly she began:

Comes and goes,  
Like the fitz and dizzyspells, like the weather,  
And it blows,  
Like it knows what's going wrong, like its clever,  
Has a name, oh but the name goes unspoken  
Weather vanes, oh, are all twisted and broken.  
So soldier on, soldier on,  
Soldier on, soldier on.  
Flaring to the whirr of a snack machine,  
Muted screams of an old regime,  
And then oh, something gets in,  
The nightshade gets in it.  
And we were all fast asleep,  
We were all so fast asleep,  
But you woke up, you woke up from the strangest dream,  
That an aubergine could ever know,  
Would ever know, would ever know.

Though her voice quavered in the beginning, she felt a lightening of heart as her song went on. Of course she was no Kelly Clarkson, but she hit most of the notes and kept a consistent pace. She even whistled the short interlude between lyrics before she continued singing:

Lava flows over crooks and craggy cliffs to the ocean,  
And explodes in a steam heat fevered cyclical motion,  
Has a name but the name goes unspoken,  
It's in vain 'cause that language is broken,  
So cast your own, cast your own,  
Cast your own, cast your own,  
Soldier on, soldier on, soldier on, soldier on,  
Soldier on, soldier on, soldier on, soldier on.

(Fitz and the Dizzyspells, Andrew Bird)

When she finished Boromir raised a brow and stated, "That song did not make sense. Did you compose it yourself?"

"No!" she said defensively, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, "I didn't write it... and... the lyrics are _cryptic_, _not_ nonsensical, and-"

"You sing just fine," he interrupted, "I thought it would be much worse with the fuss you made... despite the words…"

"Eh... I..." she stammered, then her shoulders sank and she replied, "Thanks, I guess..."

"You should sing another," he said.

"Why don't you sing the next one?" she grumbled, still flustered by his previous comment. Eileen felt surprised when Boromir did not hesitate to oblige. He began to sing of a place called the "White City," filled with references to people and events Eileen did not understand, but she appreciated the song nonetheless. The song was long and began to tell a tale of a battle long ago, and brotherhood and honor. Soon she found herself overcome with drowsiness, and her lids began to fall. Slowly she started to lean back against Boromir. For once she did not jolt forward on contact. Her head lolled back just below his chin and he could hear the girl's breaths grow long and deep. She was asleep. He sighed knowing he would have to be extra careful not to let her fall and wrapped an arm about her torso. She mumbled incomprehensibly, then reached up and held his arm with hers, nuzzling her face into his chest. For the moment she was spared of her horrific dream, it seemed…

Next she knew a warm hand gripped her shoulder, shaking her gently. Her eyes opened listlessly and she vaguely perceived that all the previous events were real. She was still in the woods on a horse with Boromir. She sucked in a breath and rubbed her eyes with her forearm. "What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"Nearing sunset," Boromir answered, "We must make camp."

In other words, she needed to climb off the horse. She nodded and sat up straight, and then Boromir dismounted behind her. He offered an arm to help her down and she took it, stumbling when her feet hit the ground. Wordlessly he helped steady her and then began to set up camp. Eileen stood scratching her arm, feeling useless and sleepy.

"Hey... um, do you want some help?" she asked in a raspy, half-awake voice, hoping in part that he would decline.

He lifted his head and glanced back at her with interest. "Alright," he said after a few moments, "A small sack to your left has fodder for the horse. See that he is fed."

She gave a half-hearted nod and turned to search for the small bag of horse fodder. She pulled a handful of timothy hay from the sack and stepped towards the front of the beast. It nuzzled into her hand impatiently and she laughed.

"Chill out, you'll have your dinner," she said as she opened her fist. Hastily the creature snatched a mouthful from her hand. As the horse ate she giggled, the gentle nibbles tickling her palm. "I bet you're as hungry as I am..." she murmured. It wasn't long before the horse finished his meager meal, but that didn't stop him from bumping her hand expectantly. "I don't have anymore," she laughed. The horse whinnied and nudged her face, causing her to stumble back. "Hey, hey, I know you're hungry but that's all I have," she said as she stepped away.

She approached Boromir who had a portion of food waiting for her. "Agh, I have horse spit on my face," she complained humorously, trying to wipe it off on the sleeve of her hoody. Boromir smiled, his face was lit up with amusement. "Oh, is that funny?" Eileen asked, using her hand to wipe the last of the saliva from her cheek then quickly smearing it against Boromir's shoulder. He eyed her dryly.

"Well," he said, "It's not as if my cloak were clean before you so graciously shared that with me."

"You're no fun to pick on," she snorted as she plopped on the ground next to him. He grunted and began to eat his portion of stale bread and hard cheese. She watched him thoughtfully as she chewed, and it didn't take long for him to notice.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh... nothing," she said, diverting her gaze.

"Hm."

She leaned back and took the final bite of bread, swallowing as she pulled her knees to her chest. "I keep asking myself how I ended up here," she said at length, "I mean... one minute I'm sitting in a tree a few miles from home, and next I know I'm... out in the middle of nowhere. I just don't understand what happened."

Boromir looked up and appeared to be thinking. After a short pause he said, "Many say the same after they have been uprooted by orc raids. In my country, attack on my people is not uncommon. It can happen so suddenly."

"Whoa, whoa, orc raids?" Eileen said doubtfully, "Orcs aren't real..."

"If you have spent your whole life without having encountered those vile creatures, you have lived a comfortable life indeed," Boromir said with agitation.

"Come on, I mean... they're just in books and video games, you know?" she replied.

"Again, you are speaking nonsense," Boromir said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not," she argued, "How do you know _you're_ not the one 'speaking nonsense?'" mimicking his accent on the last two words.

"Please correct me if I am wrong, but were you not the one who was nearly drowned and cannot recall how you came to be here? Are you not the one who hasn't the slightest idea as to where we are, even as we speak?" Boromir said evenly.

"Well... I..." she stammered, mouth opening and closing like a fish. She sank forward and held her legs tighter. "I'm just so confused... what if... what if I really _did_ hit my head? What if my memory is all fucked up and I don't even know it? How can I get home if… if I don't know where it is?" she said miserably.

Boromir's features softened. He was no stranger to the aftermath of war. Orphaned children, widows and widowers, daughters kidnapped and raped, families scattered, homes and crops burnt to the ground, starvation, disease… beneath his tough exterior it pained him to see his people harmed. After all, wasn't that the reason he fought in this war, the very reason for making the long, arduous journey to Rivendell? Watching her agonize over her current situation struck a note on his heartstrings. Minus the lip piercing, her features suggested Gondorian heritage. If he claimed to fight for his people, did he not also fight for her as well?

"I will take you back home," Boromir answered, "When my business is done and I make the return journey, you may travel with me back to Gondor."

"Wh… you would do that?" she asked uncertainly, "But what if-"

"I assure you, the place we are headed is not where you or I belong. I think you would recognize your home and family if you saw them," Boromir went on, "If not, there are places you can stay at the very least, until your memory is restored."

She gave a faint smile and said sheepishly, "That makes me feel a lot better. Thanks."

"I'm glad," he said kindly. For a fleeting moment he looked as though he might yawn. They traveled many long hours together and she had never witnessed a single yawn from him.

"You look tired," she said after a pause.

"Do I?" he asked impassively.

"Why not let me take first watch?" she offered, "I've been sleeping just about all day. I mean, honestly you could probably sleep all night if you wanted."

"You can keep watch," he began, "But you must wake me in a few hours."

"Why?" she asked, "Seriously, I can stay up tonight. I don't know how you keep moving without getting any sleep."

"It is not my intent to insult you, but I must admit I do not trust you to stay awake the whole night through," he replied "That aside, I get plenty of rest," he added stubbornly.

"Oh, alright," she said with feigned disappointment. She uncrossed her fingers behind her back when she finished speaking. Now more than ever she wanted to be helpful. A full night's rest would do him good, even if he didn't know it. When he lay down to sleep, Eileen promised herself she would not let herself fall asleep nor wake him to take watch until the sun began to rise. Instead of the usual hour or so, Eileen let him sleep until she saw the sun creeping over the horizon. She crawled to him and carefully nudged him awake.

"I'm sorry, I let you sleep through the night," Eileen whispered, nudging his back ever so gently. He was roused easily and sat up, giving her a cool stare all the while.

"You must wake me to take watch. If you grow too tired and fall asleep we will be left unprotected," he lectured as they packed up.

"If you were traveling alone for so long, how did you sleep before?" Eileen asked crossing her arms, "You can't just stay awake all the time."

"I kept hidden," he answered, "And never slept long. Now quit dallying and come here."

"I just think it would make more sense for me to sleep all day and for you to sleep all night," Eileen persisted as he helped her climb onto the horse. With ease he climbed into the saddle behind her.

"You must be tired," Boromir said, "Rest."

"Trying to shut me up, aye?" Eileen said jokingly, but confessed, "I am tired, though..." She let out a long yawn and leaned back against him, allowing sleep to take hold. When she awoke, the sun was high in the afternoon sky. Faint yellow beams of sunlight crept through the forest canopy. She reached up to brush some hair from her face and found that her skin was still hot and damp. It would seem she burned not only in that same, horrific dream, but also in the waking world. Though mild, her fever refused to break. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"You are awake," Boromir stated rather than asked. She nodded and mumbled something indiscernible. "Did you sleep well?"

"I think so..." she answered drowsily.

"I feared you would fall from the horse if I did not keep hold of you, you tossed and turned so," Boromir said.

"Really?" Eileen asked, and then quietly added, "Probably that awful dream I keep having."

"You have had the same dream more than once?" Boromir asked with concern.

"Yea, it's like every time I go to sleep," she explained.

"What happens?" he probed.

"I didn't pin you for the dream interpretation type," she snorted.

"Sometimes there is meaning to be found in dreams. Granted most dreams mean nothing, but some are worth delving into," he maintained.

"Look, I have a bachelor's degree in psychology and so far, research has not come to any significant conclusion about the meaning or purpose of dreams," she said haughtily.

"You have a _what_?" he asked skeptically.

"I studied psychology in school for four years," she elaborated, "You know, the human mind and human behavior."

"As you say," he said doubtfully, "Regardless, I am still interested in this dream of yours."

"Alright, alright. It feels like I'm in this post-apocalyptic wasteland and there's this big, fiery eye that tells me something in like... demon language or something, and then he says, 'Come to me or you'll perish,'" Eileen elaborated somewhat nonchalantly. Boromir halted the horse.

"Fiery eye..?" Boromir said with trepidation.

"And then I'm surrounded by fire. No matter what I do I can't turn or run or anything," she went on.

"Up to this point you have said many strange things, and I understand that you are quite disoriented, but… you must tell me what you know of the Eye," Boromir said.

"_The _Eye?" Eileen repeated, "You say it like it's a thing.

"I am making no jest with you, this is very serious," Boromir reprimanded.

"I… I don't know anything about it. It's as new to me as the 'Loudwater' or 'Gondor,'" she said.

"How many times have you dreamt this?" Boromir prodded.

"Every time I sleep," she answered quietly, "Why? You're freaking me out, what does it mean?"

"You'll be alright," Boromir said reassuringly, as much to himself as to her. He kicked the horse back into a slow trot.

"Seriously, you are freaking. Me. Out. What does it mean?" she demanded.

Again, they stopped. He released the reigns and gripped her shoulders. "You mustn't go to him," Boromir said sternly, "If you are frozen in place, then all the better. Do not go to him."

"Stop it," she snapped, "You're scaring me, this isn't funny."

"I am not trying to frighten you," Boromir said gently as he released her shoulders. They began moving forward once more. "We mustn't speak of this again, just remember what I told you," he said with finality.

Hours went by in silence. Eileen's dream replayed in her mind over and over and the dark, terrible voice echoed in her ears. _Dreams are just your mind preening your neurological connections, breaking down less efficient bonds and replacing them with faster ones. This isn't Freddy Krueger; Boromir's just being a jerk. I don't believe him for a minute,_ she repeated to herself.

"I have been meaning to ask you," Boromir began suddenly, breaking the long silence, "About your piercings."

"My piercings?" Eileen said, her voice brightening, "What about them?"

"Why do you have them?" he inquired bluntly.

"Why do people have their earlobes pierced or wear jewelry?" Eileen countered, practiced at answering such questions.

"A variety of reasons, I am sure," Boromir replied, "I am not accustomed to wearing jewels myself."

"Well these aren't jewels, just stainless steel," Eileen explained proudly, "And I like the way they look, to answer your question."

"One does not often see such piercings," Boromir said, then added sourly, "Save for the Haradrim. When I first pulled you from the river, I took you for one of them, but your features suggested otherwise."

"Who are the Haruh...drim?" Eileen asked.

"Southron savages," Boromir spat in disgust, "Have you never encountered them before? They are wont to attack and pillage..."

"Never seen 'em in the United States," Eileen said shrugging.

"On with that again?" Boromir said gruffly, "I assure you, there is no such place. If I were wiser I might take you for some kind of spy..."

"Hah! That's pretty funny," Eileen huffed, "If _I _were wiser I might have taken you for some crazy hobo."

"I do not appreciate that in the least," Boromir said dourly.

"You started it!" Eileen pouted, "I'm not a spy or a Hardim or whatever."

Boromir snorted back some laughter and shook his head, correcting, "Har_adrim_."

"Yea, like I said," Eileen said flippantly, "Har... adrim."

"Either you're a brilliant spy or you are the most ignorant girl I have ever met..."

* * *

Thanks for reading! In the next chapter we reach Rivendell, so hold tight! It should be up within a week. Perhaps if I get some reviews *winkwinknudgenudge* I'll post it ASAP, aye? I won't lie, I love reviews, even if they're all from 12-year-olds using terrible chatspeak. They fuel my fire. Anyways, see you next time!


	4. Finding Imladris

Chapter III – Finding Imladris

I haven't got any excessively long author notes today! Enjoy chapter 3!

* * *

Two weeks and five long days passed from her first day in Middle Earth and their first spotting of Rivendell. In the very early, crisp morning hours just as the sun began to rise, Boromir recognized the long arch of a bridge hovering high above the river. A great, ivory structure spanned the width of the Loudwater. As they neared the Last Homely House Eileen could discern a tall, white tower gleaming in the faint sunlight. A vast balcony leaned over the rapids in the valley below as the forest gave way to the steep cliff side.

At a glance, Eileen thought little of the city in the distance. She had driven through the Smokey Mountains more times than she could count, and there she saw many towns and villages nestled in the valleys or clinging to the mountainside. What could be different about this town? More than anything she was relieved to know she would no longer have to rough it in the woods, and that maybe she'd be able to find a phone when she got there! Then Boromir would see that she wasn't completely nuts, and she'd call her dad and he would come pick her up and everything would go back to the way it was.

Soon they found themselves approaching a wide arch at the entrance of the city. Laid out before them was the most gorgeous city Eileen had ever laid eyes upon, even in the dim light; she stared with mouth agape. Each elegant building stood tall and seemingly unblemished by weather or season, glowing orange in the light of sunrise and countless candles. They were accompanied by trees just as fair and timeless with lofty branches blanketed in golden leaves. The cool, unsullied air filled her nostrils with a fragrant scent that reminded her of autumn. Contentedness swept over her - yes, she was certain now that everything would be okay.

Just when Eileen felt she would never see anything more beautiful than this city, a youthful woman approached them with unhurried, deliberate steps. She greeted Boromir with pleasant words. Her sweet voice rang out like summer wind chimes and her face shone with an ethereal glow. Evidently Boromir had been expected, but when the young woman's eyes set upon Eileen they glinted with uncertainty.

"We have arranged a place for you in the House of Elrond," said the woman to Boromir. Then she looked to Eileen and said dryly, "We will also find a place for you, child."

"I am grateful for your hospitality," said Boromir, "But may I request a healer for my companion? She has come down with a fever that will not break."

"Of course," she answered, and suddenly another woman appeared. She regarded the girl with ineffable aloofness.

"You may come with me, young one," she said to Eileen, and it was then that Boromir and Eileen parted. The woman escorted her in silence. It took many moments for Eileen to build up the courage to speak.

"So… um, I was wondering if there was a phone I could use?" she tried timidly.

The woman halted and turned to face Eileen. "Phone?" she asked, "I am not sure of what you speak."

"Telephone," she tried with a nervous smile, "You know, so I could make a call…"

"I assure you, we have no 'telephones' here," she replied dismissively.

"But…I…" Eileen stammered, and it was then she noticed the woman's distinctly pointed ears. She squinted, wondering if her eyes betrayed her.

"If you are feverish as your companion said, it would be wise not to tarry," she said as she began walking again. The woman did not look back to see if the girl followed. Eileen pursed her lips with frustration, hastily tromping after her. The situation was so completely bizarre she didn't know what to say or how to react but to simply go with whatever happened. It wasn't long before they reached a room with a high ceiling and a grand view of the waterfall born from the Loudwater.

"You are a welcome guest of Lord Elrond," the woman said as she led Eileen into her quarters. The words were polite yet held an unexplainable coolness. What had she done to be treated this way? "I will send for a healer to come and see you shortly," she said, and then she left. Eileen stood alone with her thoughts for the first time in quite a while.

Uncertainty made her reluctant to touch anything or even sit on the bed, but weariness tempted her during the long minutes she waited for the so-called "healer." She fidgeted anxiously until at last there was a faint knock at her door, followed by the entrance of a seemingly ageless man with very long, dark hair. He, too, had pointed ears. Any words she wanted to speak remained stuck in her throat, and the only utterance she could form was, "Eh…"

He smiled warmly and stepped towards her with the same deliberate pace as the women who greeted her and Boromir earlier. "I am Lord Elrond, Master of the Last Homely House here in Imladris," he said gently, "And what is your name?"

"My name is Eileen," she said shyly, overwhelmed by his commanding presence. If her escort appeared fair and otherworldly, this man had to have been a god. The same warm glow emitted from his very being and only his eyes betrayed the centuries he watched come and go. She nearly forgot to breathe.

"I hear you are ill, Eileen," he said stepping towards her. She flinched and matched his steps backwards. A crushing dread pierced her soul and she found herself shrinking under his gaze. Her head began to pound and soon a high pitched ringing drowned out all other sounds. She watched his lips moving but no words reached her ears. Her legs buckled and a swift darkness overtook her.

Whether minutes or days passed, she could not say, but when her eyes opened again, the same ancient eyes were staring into hers. She pulled in a sharp breath and frantically looked around. "What happened? " she gasped, sitting up from her place on the bed, fully clothed and on top of the covers. By habit she wiped her head with her forearm only to realize that it felt dry and neither cool nor hot.

"More importantly, how do you feel?" asked Lord Elrond.

"I feel…" she said thoughtfully, "Better." She surveyed the room, and realized that either exactly 24 hours had passed or it was still the same morning. The sun may have been slightly higher in the sky and the birds had grown noisy with chatter.

"That is good," he said nodding, "Now, how have you come to Rivendell?"

She leaned back against the pillows behind her and thought for a moment, wincing as if it were painful to think. "With Boromir," she answered vaguely. She closed her eyes tight and then added, "I was drowning in the river and he saved me."

"Yes, that is also what he said. Tell me, how did you fall into the river?" Elrond asked.

"Yea I…" she began confidently, but then her voice fell. With furrowed brows she said, "I… I don't know."

"Is that so?" Elrond asked patiently. She held her head and grimaced with pain.

"I think… there was a tree?" she tried, grasping desperately at what remained of her memory.

"Can you tell me where you came from?" he went on.

She licked her lips and focused, wracking her brain for any sign of the answers to his questions. "Agh… what happened?" she repeated with frustration, "Why can't I remember anything?"

Elrond sighed sympathetically and explained, "It is a side effect of your poisoning, I believe."

"Poisoning?" she repeated in disbelief, "But how? Why?"

"It seems that someone wanted to use you to enter the city," Elrond said.

"What..?" she said helplessly, "I'm so confused…"

"Tell me about your dream," Elrond tried, "Boromir told me of a dream you had several times."

"Oh… well," Eileen began, and explained the dream to Elrond the same as she had explained it to Boromir.

"I am surprised you held out so long," Elrond said with a faint smile, "It is a good thing you reached us when you did."

"But what does it mean?" Eileen asked.

"You needn't concern yourself with that now," Elrond assured, "Perhaps in time." The girl frowned and folded her arms. "What happened to Boromir?" she asked, "Is he alright? Was it contagious?"

Elrond laughed outright. "He is just fine," he replied, "Though he did seem concerned for you."

"I need to go talk to him," she said, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

"Wait," he commanded, though not unkindly, "I have a suggestion before you leave this room again."

She looked from side to side with perplexity. "Um… sure?"

"It would be no burden on us if you would like more appropriate attire," he began, "And I would suggest removing your lip piercing."

Eileen raised her hand to her lip and looked at him questioningly.

"You see, though I may be able to tell you apart from a true Southron, there are many who would assume otherwise, and it would not be wise to go about looking like a servant of the enemy," he explained knowingly, "Though I cannot guess why a young woman of your apparent lineage would garb yourself in such a way…"

"Oh…" was all she had to say. Another question sat at the tip of her tongue and it seemed Elrond could sense it's coming.

"Unfortunately I am quite busy this morning, so I haven't more time to speak with you. Appropriate garb will be brought to you shortly," he said as he stood, "You have free roam of the grounds and may stay as a guest in my house indefinitely."

As he left, Eileen felt the urge to ask for a telephone, but at the same time could not recall what precisely that was or how it might be used. Next she thought of her father and his face, the sound of his voice, but for some reason there was no context surrounding the memory. All she knew for certain was that she missed him already.

After a short while there was another faint knocking. Before she could bid her visitor enter, the same woman from before came through the door with a gown in her arms. Wordlessly she laid it out upon her bed and left, and Eileen didn't mind. Perhaps it was as Elrond said, and the people here maintained such a frosty demeanor because of her appearance. Quickly she pulled the pressure ball from the little black ring and removed the piece of jewelry, placing it carefully on her vanity with a deep frown.

Before she could remove her clothing, a pair of chambermaids came to her door to inform her they had bath water ready. They hauled the steaming tub into her room and placed it on the floor, as well as a variety of sweet smelling soaps to bathe with. She thanked them as they left and glanced down at the little tub, which struck her as odd for some reason or another.

Either way, she was happy to finally remove her stale, dirty clothes and sink into the warm water. When at last she finished bathing and dressing herself in the new clothing, she felt brave enough to look at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her face appeared somewhat gaunt, but when she smiled the vitality returned to her face. She looked at her clothes lying in a pile on the floor and wondered where she got such a strange outfit. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and glanced at the door. More than anything she craved familiarity – as welcoming as Lord Elrond had been, she felt like an outsider. What's more, even her own clothing struck her as peculiar. The only thing or person who seemed remotely familiar was Boromir.

Furthermore, he said he would take her home, and now more than ever she was anxious to return. Hesitantly she went to her door and gripped the doorknob; however, she paused before turning it. She didn't even know where he was or, if she did, would she know how to get there? Could she ask someone? The thought filled her with dread, and she turned back to her bed and sat down at the edge.

She jolted when she heard a loud knocking at her door, much different than the gentle taps by her chambermaids and Lord Elrond. Abruptly she stood and scrambled to the door, taking the loudness as a sign of urgency. Wide-eyed, she opened the door expecting some kind of bad news only to find Boromir. She let out a sigh of relief and took a step back. "It's you," she breathed.

"You look well," he said politely.

"Thanks," she said quietly, feeling self-conscious about having changed her appearance. He was smiling. "What?" she asked averting her eyes.

"As I thought, you are far prettier without that ring in your lip," he said with practiced courtesy.

"Yea, Lord Elrond told me people wouldn't like it so… I took it out," she explained.

"Yes, well, we have some things to discuss and I haven't much time this morning. Will you walk with me?" he asked.

**A short while later...**

The gardens of Rivendell matched, if not exceeded, the beauty of the rest of the city. The tall trees lined the paths like great pillars holding up a leafy, golden roof. Flower beds packed with countless, colorful flowers Eileen could not name lay wherever she looked. The splendor of the gardens was not lost on the girl, though the man did not show the slightest of interest in the flora of Rivendell.

"I am glad to see you are doing better already," Boromir said pleasantly.

"You could say that," Eileen said, "The fever's gone but… hey, do you remember the name of the river I thought I fell in?"

"I do," he answered, "Why do you ask me?"

"Well, I don't remember it," she said, "I really don't remember much anymore. My old clothes looked weird to me; I have no idea why I was wearing them at all."

"That is… strange," he said, unsure of what else to say.

"It's completely bizarre," she murmured. She let out a deep sigh.

"I suppose that comes with your poisoning," Boromir reasoned.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "How did you know it was poisoning?" she questioned askance.

"I have seen the like of it before," Boromir replied. When she looked as though she might let him have it, he quickly spoke first. "I did not want to alarm you," he defended, "I knew if we reached the elves they might be able to help you, and Lord Elrond has been gracious enough to do so. You have been quite lucky…"

"Jeez…" she murmured, combing her hair back with her fingers. It fell back down about her cheeks, following the same side part she had maintained since the beginning of college. She peered at Boromir through the corner of her eye. "Will you really take me back home?" she asked.

"I will," he answered. She stepped in front of him and turned so they were face to face. She held out her hand with only her pinky outstretched.

"Pinky swear it, then."

"What?" he asked incredulously, "What is a 'pinky swear?'"

"All I know is that if you make a pinky swear, breaking it is a serious breach of friendship, or family, or love, or whatever the heck kind of relationship you have with that person," she explained holding her hand out stubbornly.

"Is that so?" he asked with mild amusement.

"It is. The stuff I _do_ remember, I remember it pretty well," she said firmly.

"And what does a 'pinky promise' entail?" he asked, trying his damnedest not to laugh outright.

"It's like shaking hands with your little finger," Eileen replied.

"As you say," he said. While he believed the ritual sounded foolish, it would do no harm to humor her at least. He reached up and allowed her to lock her little finger with his. As they locked fingers Boromir noticed a little silver band around her ring finger, etched with words too small for him to read. When he tried to pull away she refused to let him go.

"Now you make the promise," she said matter-of-factly.

"I promise to take you home," he said resisting the urge to roll his eyes, speaking as one might speak to a child. Their fingers unlocked and she stepped back, satisfied and grinning. "Alright, enough of that," he said, "I asked you to walk with me so we might discuss our departure." She returned to his side and they began to walk at a leisurely pace. "I have business I must attend to this morning. You need to be ready to leave when I come for you this afternoon," he said, "Ask and the elves will see that you are well accommodated for travel."

"They will?" Eileen asked skeptically. A half a smile appeared on Boromir's face.

"Yes, they will," he answered, "Though I do not blame you for having doubts."

"They were a lot nicer to you," she grumbled.

"Elves are hospitable enough, but I don't much care for their company myself," Boromir said in a low voice.

"Lord Elrond was nice," Eileen said thoughtfully, "If not a little condescending…"

"Well, that's elves for you," Boromir grunted. He peered at her sidelong. Beneath the grime of travel she cleaned up well – though she was somewhat naïve her lighthearted company gladdened him, especially in this foreign place. He asked suddenly, "Pardon my rudeness, but may I ask how old you are?"

"Rudeness? Do you think I'm old or something?" she huffed.

"On the contrary, you look very young," he said, "Regardless of your age, it is not a polite question."

"If you really wanna know, I'm twenty-two," she answered, "So yea, I am pretty young I guess."

"Are you betrothed?"

"Huh…? What? _No_," she said, flustered.

"I wondered about your ring, is all," he explained. Precious metal of any kind was not often found in the possession of commoners, less they be rings of betrothal or marriage. Either she was spoken for or she was not a mere peasant, which may make finding her family all the easier.

"My ring? You mean this one?" she asked, pulling off the silver ring and handing it to him. "It's not an engagement ring or anything… it's…" she said, thinking hard a moment to pull up a vague memory, "My friend Hope gave it to me."

Upon closer inspection he discerned the words "Valar Morghulis" inscribed in the band. The petite ring seemed even smaller in his large hands. "Valar morghulis," he read awkwardly, "What does it mean?" He handed it back to the girl.

"I don't remember," she said sadly as she returned it to her ring finger, "I do remember Hope, though, kind of. She's one of my best friends."

"I should think so, that is quite a generous gift," Boromir commented, "How much do you remember of her?"

"Not much," Eileen admitted, "That she's pretty and I've known her a long time."

"It is a start, I suppose," Boromir sighed, "Perhaps your memory will return before we reach Gondor."

"Do you think so?" Eileen asked hopefully.

"Perhaps."

Eileen crossed her arms behind her back and peered at the ground. "I don't think I ever really thanked you," Eileen said softly, "I don't know much about what happened, but I do know that if you hadn't been there, I'd be dead... or worse. So, thank you for everything."

"There is no need to thank me," Boromir said proudly, "I have only done what any honorable man should."

She was ready to protest that he took the situation too lightly when she was cut off by the clear ringing of a single bell. Boromir glanced up, knowing it was a signal that Elrond's Council would begin shortly. "Is that the business you have to attend to?" Eileen asked, her voice swollen with disappointment.

"It is," he confirmed. He faced her a moment and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Be ready to leave this afternoon," he reiterated. Glumly she nodded her understanding. "Farewell," he said.

"See you later..." she grumbled as they parted, waving weakly. She sat down at a nearby bench and watched the sun climb higher in the morning sky, giving new life to the already vibrant gardens. Leaning back she stared up at the clouds through the fair branches of a golden-plumed tree. A gentle breeze caressed her face and played with her hair. She lifted her hand and felt the air whirl between her fingers... a dull pain rose at her temples and she let her hand fall into her lap. A memory stood at the edge of consciousness but she could not coax it forward. Her hands clenched into fists and she felt the sting of hot tears. The homesickness left a pit in her stomach, most of all because she could hardly recall what it meant to be home, to be wholly secure and comfortable. All she knew was that she was _not _home and might not be for a long time.

Next she felt was a grumbling in her stomach. It seemed that not only homesickness left her stomach feeling empty. _Ask and the elves will see that you are well accommodated for travel. _She could hear Boromir's words in her mind's ear. If they would accommodate her for travel, surely they would also offer her breakfast? They might even allow her to eat to her fill, something she had not done in weeks... the prospect of a proper meal trumped her depressed, defeatist state of mind. She wiped back the tears with her forearm and rose to her feet, heading out of the garden and back into the House of Elrond where she hoped to find a good meal...

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Thanks for actually waiting for this one – I went camping over the weekend at Apple River Canyon in Northwest Illinois. I wanted one of those legit camping experiences where they don't have electrical hook-ups or showers - we stayed from Friday-Monday and I'll tell you what, my boyfriend and I smelled so bad we couldn't even enjoy the drunken forest sex under the stars. We wound up using the campsite's water pump to bathe ourselves with the biodegradable dish soap we brought for our mess kits. It worked surprisingly well as shampoo... I wouldn't trade those memories for the world, haha. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed chapter three :) Don't forget to review, which reminds me...

**I would like to thank Borys, ****M, and Kellie348 for the reviews and sharing their excitement for the upcoming chapters! I really appreciate the kind words!  
**


	5. Bows and Arrows Do Not Make Archers

Chapter IV – Bows and Arrows Do Not Make Archers

This chapter was painful to fix. I ranted about it at the end of the chapter so I'll spare you that for now. Please hold your judgement until you read the entire chapter. You may think I'm Mary Sue-ing but that's only until you: Read. The. Whole. Thing. So yea, to reiterate, read it in full and you'll see I haven't created a monster.

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Eileen managed to navigate her way through the gardens back to the House of Elrond. Wandering from corridor to corridor with her hands intertwined behind her back, she soon found herself in unfamiliar hallways. Her stomach protested so loudly she feared passersby could hear as it churned uncomfortably. _Maybe I should have walked back with Boromir..._ she thought remorsefully. No matter how far she walked the enormous, white pillared compound seemed to have no end. Lost as she was within the House, her own mind became a maze of restless contemplation. Diligently she rummaged for any clear memories or clues about how to get home.

However, her thoughts were interrupted by a pair of waist-high, curly-haired blurs who nearly bowled her over. It seemed her strength hadn't quite returned, as she needed to brace herself against the wall to keep steady. Before her eyes the blurs took solid form, two young boys they seemed, with the largest, hairiest feet she had ever seen. So distracted by their outlandish feet, she scarcely heard them apologizing.

"...what?" she asked, at last looking upon their faces.

"I beg your pardon, my lady," said one of the pair, "There's not much that can stop hungry hobbits at breakfast." While he stood no taller than a child, his voice sounded like that of an adult. Moreover, even his face was that of a grown person. She blinked and rubbed her eyes a few times.

"Hobbit?" she repeated hazily.

"You'd think no one but Gandalf and Breelanders ever saw a hobbit," huffed the smaller, "And here I thought the elves were the wisest people in Middle Earth."

"Me? Oh, no, I'm not an elf," Eileen laughed, brushing her hair back to reveal rounded ears. "And I'm sorry for not remembering, it's not that I didn't know," she insisted, "I just forgot, I think."

"Forgot?" the taller echoed. Eileen smiled awkwardly and waved her hand as if to erase what she just said. The story was too convoluted to explain successfully, especially considering how little she understood herself.

"Well, if you're not an elf does that mean you're here for that secret council?" the smaller asked blatantly. The other fellow nudged him in the gut none too gently.

"What secret council?" she asked with heightened interest. When the shorter opened his mouth to begin explaining he received another nudge in the gut. Over and over Boromir had vaguely referred to having "business" here. Precisely what that business was, he never said.

"Honestly we don't know that much about it since we weren't invited," the nudger explained regretfully. Eileen crossed her arms and frowned.

"I see. I guess that means I wasn't invited either," she muttered, "I hate secrets; this is going to kill me..."

"Don't look so glum!" said the taller. "Oh, we haven't properly introduced ourselves! I am Meriadoc Brandybuck and this is Peregrin Took," he said with flourish.

"But you can just all us Merry and Pippin," added Pippin.

"I'm Eileen," she replied. Then like a scholar trying to memorize terms she whispered to herself, "And you're Merry and Pippin, and you're _hobbits_."

"Yes, well... This hobbit is so hungry he might perish," complained Pippin.

"That's right," Eileen said, recollecting why she had drifted back into the House to begin with, "If you guys are going to find some food... could I come with you?"

"Who could say no to breakfast with such a lovely girl?" said Merry politely, "Follow us." He held out his arm so she might take it, and after a moment of indecision she locked arms with the hobbit. They led her down a corridor she had yet to explore and after a short while, a vast balcony spread out to their left. Even from the hall the view took Eileen's breath away. The tree-covered valley spread out before them in the far distance, and nearer a full view of the gardens. Next to the garden Eileen could see a wide, green lawn that ended at the far side with circular, standing objects. She squinted in hopes of clearing her sight enough to see, but it was no use. She hadn't noticed it during her walk in the gardens and pure curiosity yanked at her skirts like a small child.

"What's over there?" she asked, bringing the trio to a stop.

"The gardens," Pippin said.

"No, next to it," Eileen said, stepping towards the balcony. She raised her hand to point in the direction of the lawn. "Over there." The halflings followed after her as she made her way to the railing. The gardens looked like an enormous quilt covering the granite platform on which the city stood. On the left she saw a wide emerald field adorned with white and red pearls on the far end. Eileen shielded her eyes with her hands and strained to glimpse the rounded forms. "It's a shooting range!" she exclaimed. An unbidden memory resurfaced in her mind, provoking not only images of the memory, but a dull, throbbing pain at her temples…

_ "Is that a bow?" Eileen gasped in wonder._

_ "Jory and I found it at the flea market," explained her friend Derek. Broad of shoulder and a head taller than Eileen, with jet black hair and almond eyes. When he smiled you could see his minor under bite, though it did not subtract anything from the charm of his brightened face. He beamed now at her excited reaction to his rickety longbow. "Do you want to shoot it?" he asked, knowing full well how she might respond._

_ She placed her beer on the counter and nodded eagerly. "That's friggin' awesome! I haven't shot a bow since middle school!" she said excitedly._

_ "We made a target in the back," he said, stepping out onto the stone porch of his backyard. When she caught sight of the "target" she began to laugh._

_ "That is ghetto as Hell. It's a good thing you don't have neighbors behind you," Eileen snorted. A small, black target was taped to a gigantic cardboard box with a backdrop of the dense woods behind. Eileen could only guess it once housed a refrigerator. Behind that Derek and his brother propped a rotting plywood board against a broken chair. _

_ "It works pretty well," he said, handing her the light, wooden longbow. The string appeared to be made of thick twine. Eileen fingered the string and laughed even harder. "Don't mock it until you try it," Derek defended as he handed her a carbon fiber arrow._

_ "These arrows probably cost more than this thing you call a 'bow,'" she giggled as she awkwardly notched her arrow and took her stance. She was surprised to have remembered the technique she learned in gym class so many years ago. _

_ "Andrew bought a recurve bow on eBay since we've been shooting this one so much," Derek mentioned. Eileen let the arrow fly and watched it lazily make its way towards the target. It pierced the cardboard just outside of the target then bounced off the plywood before landing on the ground. _

_ "That was anticlimactic..."she muttered dryly. "Let me know when you get the new one," Eileen said as Derek handed her another arrow, "I wouldn't mind being the next Katniss Everdeen."_

"…lright?" asked a small voice.

Eileen shook her head and glanced down at the hobbits as if awakening from a trance. "What?" she squeaked.

"Are you alright?" repeated Merry.

"Yea, I just… remembered something," she said airily, "Let's get some food, huh?"

Naturally the hobbits knew their way to the kitchens without a single misstep or wrong corner. They had only to ask and food was provided. Merry and Pippin lead her to another of the numerous ivory balconies looking out upon the valley. They seated themselves on a marble bench long enough for the three of them. At first Eileen took care to eat daintily so as not to offend her company, but she quickly realized it didn't matter in the least. Their appetites rivaled that of a saiyan (whatever the heck _that_ was) and full mouths did not stop their speech. It seemed almost a waste watching them devour heaping mouthfuls of the fair cuisine. The crisp fruit and light, sweet bread; all of the food held a distinctive sweetness, even the cool water they sipped.

With a full mouth Pippin suddenly said, "Have you seen Sam this morning?"

"Now that you mention it, he never came back after seeing Frodo off," Merry said, "He wasn't invited to the council was he?"

"No," Pippin said with certainty, "I wonder where he got off to…"

"Do you have a friend at the council?" Eileen asked.

"Our friend Frodo is there, and his Uncle Bilbo," Pippin explained, "But not Sam."

"Oh, that's neat," Eileen said. She popped the last bite of sweet bread into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. "So are there lots of hobbits in Rivendell?" she asked at length.

"Hobbits in Rivendell?" Merry snorted.

"We're from _the Shire_," Pippin said.

"The Shire, huh? Is that far away?" Eileen asked. The hobbits laughed, though not unkindly.

"We came a long way," Merry explained, "It took weeks to get here."

"So what are you guys doing here anyway? If you don't mind me asking, that is…" she continued to inquire. The more she learned, the more she might remember.

And that was all it took to set them off talking about their journey from the Shire to Bree and from there, to Rivendell. Evidently five of them set out from the Shire in September but their friend Fatty stayed behind in the Shire. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin left on September 22nd for Bree where they were to meet a friend. When he didn't show, a man called Strider guided them from Bree to Rivendell with the frightening black riders ever on their tail.

"Black riders?" Eileen asked with wide eyes, "What are black riders?"

"Strider called them Nazgul," Merry explained, "Powerful servants of the enemy."

"That's scary…" Eileen said wrapping her arms around herself, "It gives me the creeps. But why were they after you?"

"Our friend had something the enemy wants," Pippin said.

"The enemy… you keep saying 'the enemy.' What do you mean by that? Is this country at war?" she asked.

"No, no, no. Sauron. The Dark Lord of Mordor," Merry said, feeling the wisest he'd ever felt in his life. When she gave no indication of an understanding he asked, "Have you never heard of him? Even in the Shire we have some old tales."

"Sauron…" Eileen murmured, wondering if it might stir up a memory as the shooting range had. Yet nothing came to mind, not even the pressure of a memory pushing against the wall of her amnesia. She shook her head and sighed, "No, I don't remember who that is."

"You said something like that earlier," Merry mentioned, "Like how you just forgot what hobbits are." Eileen scratched her forearm, a nervous habit she'd had since childhood. Memory or no, she couldn't resist the urge.

"It's a complicated story," she grumbled.

"Well go on, then," Pippin encouraged, "What brings you to Rivendell?"

She rested her chin on her hands and told of how she might have drowned in the Loudwater if not for Boromir. She told of her dream, her fever and subsequent memory loss upon Lord Elrond's healing.

"How terrible," Pippin said with polite empathy.

"It's not so bad," Eileen said lightly, "Sometimes I remember random little things when I'm reminded of them. When we passed the shooting range I remembered my friend Derek. I think as long as things keep jarring my memory, it'll come back in no time. And besides, Boromir promised to take me home." She smiled faintly and nodded. Soon, however, the smiled faded and she gasped, "What time is it? I was supposed to be ready to leave before the council ended!" Frantically she stood and spun in a circle. "How do I get back?" she asked with wide, horrified eyes.

"It's alright, we can show you where to go," Merry said trying to hide his laughter. Anxiously she hopped from foot to foot until the hobbits began leading her through the many halls and corridors. When at last they reached her hall, she noticed Boromir raising his hand to knock on her door. She sprinted towards him at full speed hollering, "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot!"

"Wait up!" said the hobbits as they chased after her on their short legs. Boromir turned just in time to watch her come skidding to an ungraceful stop with the hobbits close behind. All at once, Pippin slammed into Merry who bumped into Eileen who stumbled headlong into the unsuspecting man.

Boromir, however, remained steady enough to catch the unbalanced girl. Though he was unhurt, for Eileen, crashing into Boromir felt like hitting a solid wall. The hobbits were less lucky and tumbled to the ground in a heap at their feet.

"What are you doing?" he scolded, holding her firmly about the shoulders. Already she could tell his mood had soured since morning. His mouth settled deeply into a staunch frown; whatever mild fondness he fostered for her childishness had apparently left him. Merry scrambled to his feet and yanked Pippin up with him.

"It was our fault," said Merry quickly, experienced at talking his way out of trouble, "We kept her distracted the better part of the day and lost track of time. We were running to get here as quick as we could, but my cousin is not very graceful as you can see." Boromir glanced at the halflings with an intrigue that still lingered from having met Frodo and Bilbo at the council. He released Eileen and gave an agitated sigh.

"It no longer matters that you forgot to make ready for our departure," Boromir said, annoyed that she would forget such a thing whether or not it still mattered, "There has been a change of plans."

"Change of plans?" Pippin interjected.

"Forgive me, but I must speak with Eileen in private," Boromir said with wavering courtesy.

"Pardon us," Merry said, gripping Pippin by the wrist, "If we don't see you again, it was nice to meet you." Eileen nodded desolately and gave a half-hearted wave as they left. She had been certain she would feel only relief when at last she saw Boromir again, but now she felt like a guilty dog. She wanted to ask about the change of plans but the words would not leave her mouth. Another part of mind urged her to begin apologizing profusely for not only her unreliability but for running into him.

"As I said, there has been a change of plans," he said tightly, "I will not depart for a while yet. I have offered to accompany a small band of travelers on my way to Gondor."

"Okay..." she said quietly, "So... when do we leave, then?"

"I would urge you to find another means to return home," he said more gently, "The road will be far more dangerous if you join us."

"Why would it be more dangerous? Isn't it safer to travel with more people?" she asked with growing confusion. His vague explanation left her with more questions than answers.

"Do you remember your dream?" he asked impatiently.

"Yes," she answered.

"It was no mere dream," Boromir said, "The voice calling to you was the Dark Lord Sauron. He is the one who poisoned you expecting that you would join his side – for what reason I cannot guess. The company I am to travel with has undertaken a great errand against Sauron, and as such, will be under constant threat. Were you to join us, your life would also be threatened. I cannot in good conscious condone your coming with us."

She resisted a smile threatening to break through. "Like a secret mission?" she asked in a whisper.

"Have you heard nothing I have said?" he said with reproach, "This is no jest. He could have killed you from leagues away and you would have thought it nothing more than a fever dream."

"So... my dream wasn't a dream? It was the Dark Lord Sauron trying to hurt me and draw me to his side?" she asked awkwardly.

"Yes," he said.

"And that secret council you went to had to do with dealing with this Sauron guy?" Eileen said, attempting to finally make sense of the situation.

"What makes you think I went to a secret council?" Boromir asked carefully.

"Merry and Pippin told me about it," Eileen answered nonchalantly, "I figured that's where you went. Their friend and his uncle were there, they said."

"Yes, they were correct," Boromir said tiredly.

"They said their friend has something the enemy wants, but they didn't say what," Eileen continued explaining.

"Of course they said that," he muttered, "Then I suppose you have some idea of the peril you will face if you refuse my advice."

"Honestly... I still don't really understand," she admitted, "How long will you be here? Can I decide later?"

"It may be a while yet," Boromir said, "Though I cannot say for certain."

"Well... In the mean time if you let me figure all this out, I can make an informed decision," she said confidently, "Would that make you feel better about it?"

"No," Boromir said crossly, "Whether or not you understand the danger does not change the fact that it is inherent in this journey."

Eileen peered down at Boromir's scabbard. "Alright, what if I had a weapon?"

"A weapon?" Boromir scoffed, "Surely you do not know how to wield a sword."

Eileen thought for a moment then shook her head, "No, I don't think I know how to use a sword but... what about a bow or something? If we've got all this time, don't you think I could learn?"

"We may leave in a week," Boromir said, "Depending on when the rangers return."

"Come on, I think I've shot a bow before," Eileen said, thinking of the vague memory that returned earlier in the day.

"Have you?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes! Maybe..." she replied, "At least let me try!"

"You can do as you like," Boromir said, "I will not stop you."

"No, I'll show you I can," she said stubbornly, "Tomorrow I'm going to ask for a bow and stuff, and if the elves are as accommodating as you say, they should provide me with one, right?"

"I suppose," Boromir said, and she noticed his grim expression beginning to lift.

"Go ahead and laugh," Eileen said confidently placing her hands on her hips.

He shook his head but at last a smile appeared across his lips. "Then I will see you tomorrow," he said, "And we'll see what you can do."

Sure enough, when the next day came Eileen showed up at Boromir's quarters with a bow in hand and arrows peeking out from behind her shoulder. He could see the determination shining in her eyes at the chance to prove herself useful. It made him think of his younger brother…

He followed her fervent footsteps to the expansive, green shooting range. Indeed the range was made for the keen eyes of Elves; Eileen had to swallow back the dread surging up from the pit of her stomach. Whatever hazy memory she had about archery did not contain anything about shooting such long distance. When _was _the last time she actually shot a bow? Had she misremembered? Suddenly she was flooded with second thoughts... perhaps she might have practiced on her own a bit before dragging Boromir along. She let out a small puff of a laugh.

"Not what you were expecting?" Boromir asked, having seen a similar look on the faces of newly recruited soldiers. He could not help but feel amused.

"Its fine," she said with resolve. She held her chin up high and stepped up to the mark. Awkwardly she took an arrow from the quiver and with trembling hands she managed to notch it. Boromir nodded, recognizing she was at least familiar with proper technique. With effort she pulled the bowstring to her lip. Already the taut fibers were digging into her fingers. She felt surprised at the difficulty of just pulling the bowstring. Her eyes strained to pinpoint her target and take aim.

Boromir looked on with mild interest and said, "Don't hold so long, you should fire shortly after the pull." Her only reply was a grunt.

She took in a measured, deep breath and released her arrow at last. The bowstring grazed her forearm as the arrow went whistling forward with speed she had not anticipated. She was relieved to hear the distinct _THUD! _of her arrow making contact with the target. At first she seemed rather pleased with herself, but upon further inspection, she realized the arrow had not hit her intended mark...

Boromir burst out laughing and patted her on the shoulder, "I did not realize you had been aiming for the left target!"

The arrow was indeed embedded in the target one over to the left, in the very edge of the white. Blood rushed to her face and she slapped his hand off her shoulder, her temper overtaking what little manners she had. Wordlessly she pulled another arrow from her quiver and notched again. She pulled back, feeling the bite of the bowstring. Another aim, another breath, another shot. The arrow sailed just past the proper target.

"Hm... I suppose that was better than the last," Boromir said wryly.

"You're making me nervous!" she snapped. Clearly an outburst of wounded pride; indeed Boromir had seen this as well. She reminded him of a young, green boy who thought he could save the world with a weapon in hand. She would soon learn that it took more than a bow and some arrows to make an archer.

"_I'm _making you nervous?" he said teasingly, "How about a pack of wargs or a horde of orcs? How will you feel when you're face to face with _them_?" She grimaced and glanced down at the elvish bow in her hand – Derek's long bow had been nothing more than a dodgy toy compared to this weapon. The limbs of the elvish bow were not only rigid and strong, but the dark wood was adorned with intricate, silver etchings. Even the string shone like silvery moonlight. It was both deadly and astonishingly beautiful, unlike the girl who held it. She chewed her lip and slowly lifted her head to meet his eye. Her pride had yet to burn out; he could see it smoldering in her hazel eyes, her tightly clenched jaw. She took another arrow from her quiver and fired another shot without pause. Her aim guided the arrow to the far left of the rightful target. She let out a grunt of dissatisfaction and went for another arrow.

"I won't disagree, you're a better shot than I was expecting, but-" he began to say. She had already notched another arrow and let it fly before he could finish his sentence. Slowly her arrows began creeping towards the center of the target. She managed to land a single arrow in the second outer ring after a few tries but struggled to hit any nearer to the bulls-eye. It was clear that she wasn't trying to prove anything to Boromir anymore, but only to herself. She had to hit the bulls eye for herself. With her no longer paying attention to her teasing it took only a few minutes for Boromir to grow uninterested with watching the girl notch and fire.

He helped her retrieve her arrows from the target, as well as a handful on the ground, and walked back to the mark. As he handed her the arrows he bid her farewell and a sardonic good luck. After he left, she went on like this for a great while until the bowstring felt slick against her fingers. She held her hand before her eyes and saw that the fibers of the string had torn into her skin. Next came a mild burning where the flesh was broken. She looked up, startled to find the day had grown late while she fired arrow after arrow in a daze of determination. Her senses reawakened to the real world and not too far off she could hear familiar, young voices speaking cheerfully. She looked up to see her two hobbit friends chatting with a few others on a little balcony overlooking the gardens and the range. "Aye! It's Eileen!" shouted Pippin, waving from above. Merry leaned over to see for himself and began waving.

"You were shooting all those arrows?" he hollered with amazement.

"Yea!" she confirmed, surprised that her voice could reach those heights at all. From below the hobbits looked like vague, dark figures.

"Probably best not to keep on hollering like this," Merry shouted.

"Come up and meet our friends!" Pippin suggested with a yell. Another two halflings appeared at the edge of the balcony: she could only make out that one appeared larger than the other. Eileen nodded and jogged over to a set of spiral steps leading to the upper level. She was greeted by the cheerful pair of Merry and Pippin who did not hesitate to introduce their friends Frodo and Sam. Eileen reached out to shake their hands, but then pulled back when she remembered her small injury.

"I'm sorry to tell you, but your hand is bleeding, Miss," Sam said with some concern.

She smiled sheepishly and nodded as she murmured, "Yea, I should probably have borrowed a glove..."

"But you can shoot a bow!" Pippin said wistfully, "That sure is something!"

"Though I am pleased to meet you, I think you'd best tend to that," Frodo said sympathetically, "It looks rather painful."

"Oh, it's nothing," she replied smiling lightly, "But you're probably right. I'll catch up with you guys a little later, maybe for dinner?"

"Make that a date?" Merry said grinning mischievously.

"Yea, sure," Eileen answered with a passive wave of her uninjured hand as she walked away.

"Told you she likes me more," Merry said jibing Pippin in the rib.

"Have some manners..." Sam scolded as their voices became fainter. That was the last Eileen heard as she stepped away, but could not resist turning around with a grin on her face.

"He's right, you know," she called.

"Hah! See!" Merry boasted.

"I was talking about Sam," Eileen clarified, spinning on her heel then swiftly striding away. The very last she heard was the din of their laughter fading behind her. She examined the raw, bleeding skin of her fingers while she walked. "Man…" she grumbled, wishing she never noticed the small wounds at all. Pain always waits until after the blood is seen to rear its ugly head.

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The small revisions I made the first few chapters created waves in this one. Chapter IV needed a shit ton of editing and no matter how much I tried to fix it, this stupid chapter never felt quite right. I had a friend of mine (the one who read The Silmarillion before I even watched the films so many years ago) read it and her suggestions helped a lot. Even so... bah! But I just couldn't keep hesitating with this one. I have a wedding I'm standing up in tomorrow and I just got to get this thing off my chest before I go to bed. So yea, hopefully you liked it :/

By the way, thanks for the reviews! I might have procrastinated even further if not for the encouragement. Enjoy your weekend!

-SSJKarigan


	6. Lord Elrond's Decision

Chapter V – The Final Decision

AN: Originally I didn't have this chapter but I decided to write it last minute. Some parts I had incorporated into the previous and following chapters but I realized there was too much needing explanation so it just grew longer and longer until I had to make it its own chapter. As such it took a long ass time to finish it. Plus there's that whole two months in Rivendell that were completely open to play with, so yea, I couldn't resist a couple of cutesy little short stories mixed in. I already have Chapter VI ready so that'll be up shortly as well. =D

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When Eileen returned she saw that her chambermaid had not been idle. Sitting on top of her vanity she found a small bowl of aromatic water. Beside it lay a neatly folded cloth embroidered with silver floss. A long gown was left draped over her vanity chair with little ornamented slippers sitting on the floor below for the next day. Absentmindedly Eileen lifted the fine garment and held it delicately with both hands, realizing only too late that her bloodied hand came in contact with the soft cloth. "Oh, shoot!" she gasped, dropping the dress in a pile on the floor. "Gah! Stupid, stupid!" she hissed, carefully picking it up with her uninjured hand and sloppily laying it across the back of her chair. Droplets of blood had already soaked into the fabric, some in the worst of places.

In the lower area near the crotch numerous circular stains already began to set. Pressure built up at her temples and the dull throbbing she experienced earlier returned...

"_I'm thinking about trying a new birth control," said a young woman sitting across from Eileen at a cozy family restaurant. Her hair was dyed dark auburn, a stunning contrast to her clear, ivory skin. "Didn't you get that... IUD thing a little while ago?" she asked, peering at Eileen with interested gray-green eyes. _

"_Yea, Mirena," Eileen elaborated, "Are you thinking about getting it?"_

"_Maybe," Erin said uncertainly, "How do you like it?"_

"_I love it," Eileen said happily, "I haven't had my period in two months and it doesn't make me feel all crazy like the Pill."_

"_That'd be nice," Erin mused, "The Pill turned me into a psycho bitch. But my doctor was saying you shouldn't get an IUD until after you've had children."_

_Eileen pulled a sip of soda through her straw. Casually she stirred the ice as she said, "I think it's because of how they have to insert it..."_

"_Does it hurt...?" Erin asked warily. _

_Eileen snorted, "It fuckin' killed. You know me; I'm not a big crier. But man, I _totally _cried when I got it... That's probably why they recommend waiting until after you have kids. They have to put it all up in your business."_

"_I don't know..." Erin said skeptically._

"_On the upside it's good for five years and apparently won't kill your sex drive," Eileen added lightly. Erin watched as Eileen fidgeted with her straw. _

_After a moment Erin asked, "Have things... you know, have they gotten better since you got it?"_

_Eileen nudged her glass forward and kept her eyes fixed on the table. "Not really... he still hardly even touches me," she murmured. Then her face perked up and she added, "But he said he was going to try quitting drinking."_

_Erin smiled sympathetically and said, "I hope he does. Maybe he just needs some time." _

"_Yea..." Eileen said weakly, taking another long sip of her soda. _

When she returned from her wakeful dream state she looked down and held her stomach with her hand. "IUD...?" she wondered, "Does that mean I don't get my period anymore? Hmm..." After another peek at the dress she forced herself to tend to the present issue: her hand. Apprehensively she peered at her door, wondering if she should request a healer or something... but then she thought about the cold looks and short words she always received from her chambermaid. She hadn't even told Eileen her name...

So Eileen began scouring her room for something to bandage her fingers. The search came without result and all she could think to use was the pretty face cloth left with her wash bowl. Anxiously she tapped her nails on the vanity surface. _Hell, it's not like my chambermaid likes me anyways, _she thought gruffly.

She dipped her hand in the floral-scented water, quickly transforming the clear liquid into an opaque red. Washing one hand with the other, the grime of her archery practice disappeared from her skin. She patted her hands dry with the cloth. Already it became stained with the blood of her injury and Eileen knew there was no turning back now.

Haphazardly she wrapped the cloth about her fingers and tied a loose knot at the top. It took only a moment for the knot to fall loose and soon after, to come completely undone. She grunted in dissatisfaction and tried again, but the material was too supple to hold a firm knot. "God damn it..." the grumbled as she continued grappling with the pretty cloth. Having only one hand available didn't make her task any easier – she took one end between her teeth and pulled with her free hand. With great effort she managed to secure it about her fingers. Then she folded the dress in such a way to hide the stains and set it atop her vanity.

At last she was ready to have dinner with the hobbits, but when she arrived they told her they had many things to discuss amongst themselves. So Eileen left, crossing her arms behind her back, and then wandered aimlessly for a time. Soon her footsteps brought her to the gardens. Not sure what to do with herself she sat down at the same bench as earlier that day. She watched as the shadows grew long – here they did not seem sinister, but slender and elegant as they stretched out from their roots.

"A little late for a stroll in the gardens, don't you think?" asked Boromir as he strode towards her.

"Speak for yourself," answered Eileen. At first he seemed glad to see her, but as he drew near his face sank.

"What have you done to yourself?" Boromir asked, gently grabbing her by the wrist so he could look at her bandaged hand.

"It's nothing," she insisted. She tried to pull away but his firm grip would not break. "It was from shooting today..." she explained quietly.

"How long were you practicing?" he asked.

"All day..."

"Without a glove?" She nodded. "And no bracer either," he muttered, noticing her bright pink forearm. "You should have at least had it bandaged properly," he scolded.

"I didn't want to ask my chambermaid, she always treats me like a nuisance," Eileen defended.

"Can you blame her?" he said. She frowned indignantly. "Come," he ordered, releasing her wrist at last. He led her back to her quarters and told her he would return shortly. He came back with Eileen's chambermaid following behind. She brought with her a small bowl of warm water with a fresh cloth. "Sit down," he instructed, pulling a chair up next to her bed. She sat down at the edge of her mattress. Carefully he removed the blood-stained cloth. The wound was still fresh and bright red.

"Did you even clean this?" he asked as he examined her fingers.

"I tried to," she said sheepishly. Shaking his head he stood to retrieve the bowl of water from her vanity. He sat back down and placed the bowl in his lap, then motioned for her to give him her hand.

She grimaced as he roughly began washing the tender skin. Unlike the previous bowl, this water did not smell of flowers but of herbs. Whatever it was, it made the small gashes burn. She knew if she protested Boromir would only tease her or worse, reprimand her again for having been so careless to begin with. She was relieved when he finally set the bowl down on the floor next to him and pulled her hand into his lap. Her hands were small but her square palms gave them a sturdy appearance. They were both strong and yet had a feminine touch – at the tips of her fingers were long, well-shaped nails.

Though his hands were large and calloused, they moved deftly to bandage her slender fingers. In no time he finished securing her bandages. For a moment he paused, peering down at her upturned hand resting against his palm.

"Is it done?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Boromir. She brought her hand back to her own lap. "Wait a few days before practicing your marksmanship again," he said disapprovingly.

"What if you guys leave in a few days?" Eileen asked.

"Then all the more reason for you to stay behind," he said.

"I don't want to stay here," she said unhappily, "It doesn't feel right."

"I know," he said, "I feel much the same as you. Understand I will keep my promise, whether or not I think it wise. However, I hope in time you will see that it is best for you to stay." He gave her a thin smile before taking his leave.

Gracelessly she flopped onto her back. The ceiling hovered high above her head. The distance between her eyes and the domed cap of her quarters made it difficult to appreciate the viney, golden gilding spread across the ivory ceiling. Pillars framed the view into the valley, also decorated with the same golden vines, spiraling up and up. Even the mahogany bed frame was not without the delicate liana. Surrounded by unfathomable beauty, breathing the pure, invigorating air of Imladris, all of Eileen's attention seemed drawn to the neat bandages wound about her fingers.

The elves would give her whatever she requested – they could bring her tray after tray of sweet foods and refreshing, cool water. They could offer fine gowns with bejeweled slippers and tie her hair back in tidy little braids. Her chambermaid herself could have cleaned and bandaged her fingers but... despite all the extravagant comforts offered in the House of Elrond, Eileen would never receive the warm, kindly smile Boromir gave her at times. Grudgingly the she-elf brought her food and clothing; readily Boromir took the time to wrap Eileen's small hurts. How could he expect her to stay here, enclosed in this sterile courtesy? Of course Elrond had been kind, but what would a great elven Lord want with her now that she had told her story? All she had left to do was wither away in this unchanging, unaging, mysterious place...

_No_, she decided, _I'm going with him._

_oooOOOOOOOOooo_

The next morning Eileen was summoned by Lord Elrond. Her chambermaid led her to a room where the walls were completely obscured by high shelves packed with leather bound books. Along the spine their titles were written in flowing characters the girl did not recognize. Eileen could hear Lord Elrond scratching away with quill and ink at a desk on the far side of the room. As usual, this room was airy and brightened by the natural light coming in from the many wide openings to the outside world. Without turning from his task Elrond spoke.

"It has been brought to my attention that you intend to accompany Boromir," he said evenly.

"That is what I intend," Eileen answered confidently.

"I cannot permit you to do so," he replied.

"But Boromir already promised me. He said it was up to me to decide," Eileen explained.

"It is not up to you to decide," Elrond said, "As to Boromir's promise, consider him released from any obligation to you, as it was not up to him to make that decision, either."

"Why?" Eileen asked, "Who are you to make these decisions for us?"

"Truly you have lost your memory if you are asking me that question," he said tiredly.

"Yes, you're right, I have," Eileen replied, "All I had left was the hope of going home and now you're taking that from me, too?"

"I am not responsible for the loss of your memory," Elrond said calmly.

"Oh, really?" Eileen said doubtfully, "Before you 'healed' me my memory was _intact_."

"Is that so?" Elrond asked wryly, "I heard Boromir's account of your meeting. You spoke nothing but nonsense."

"Enlighten me, then," Eileen challenged, "You're supposed to be this great Lord of Elves. If you're so wise and powerful, tell me why I can't remember anything."

"I told you it was a side effect of your poisoning," Elrond replied impatiently though still refusing to give her his full attention.

"That's so vague," Eileen complained, "Just because I lost my memory doesn't mean I'm stupid. I want to know exactly what you know." Elrond rose from his desk and looked at her directly. When his dark, perceptive eyes met hers she found it difficult to hold his intense gaze. It felt as though she were glimpsing into ages long past, into the very pit of joy and also of deep sorrow.

"Exactly what I know," he repeated humorously, clasping his hands behind his back, "No, young one, you cannot know exactly what I know."

Eileen couldn't help but let out a puff of a laugh. "You knew what I meant..." she grumbled.

"Yes, well... if you _must_ know I will explain," he surrendered. "Sauron has many ways of drawing allies to his side. When people cannot be bribed with rewards or coerced with threatening words, he resorts to other methods. Your poisoning was just such a method – it works slowly to suppress your memory, not only making you vulnerable to his call but a willing servant – a man without ties to family or country will not hesitate to harm those who were once close to him. I was able to draw out most of the poison before it consumed you. However, I was not able to wholly remove it at risk of causing you great injury. The remaining poison can do you no further harm, but can still act to suppress your memory," Elrond explained, "In time the poison will run its course and your memory should return."

"How long can that take?" Eileen asked quietly.

"A week. A month. A year," he answered. She peered at the ground, silent at last. "For the present, you will stay here. In time arrangements will be made for you to return to your people," Elrond said with finality. When she gave no rebuttal he returned to his desk.

"No," Eileen said quietly, "No, I can't accept this. You have no right to keep me here against my will." Elrond sighed deeply.

"It is for your own good," he replied.

"Well, you better lock me in a cell," Eileen said stubbornly, "Because I'll follow after them whether or not you permit it."

"I will not lock you in a cell," he said, "But I assure you, you will not be joining Boromir when he departs. I have other important matters to attend to. You may take your leave."

"You can't-"

"You may take your leave," he repeated as one might to a misbehaving child.

She left in a haze of disbelief. In a matter of minutes her circumstances changed completely without as much as her consent. Her mind buzzed with foolish ideas: to barge back in and demand to be allowed to go, cussing and hollering; to break out into hysterical sobs, and plead for his acquiescence; to try and reason with him by saying she would be a useful addition to the company since she was an ace archer; make up a story about how deeply she loved Boromir and could not bear to be parted with him. None of these were wise nor would they earn Lord Elrond's sympathy. Her only true options were to accept the reality willingly, or numb her mind to her emotions that were quickly spiraling out of control inside of her. She placed one foot before the other, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground until her vision grew blurry with tears.

"What's the matter?" Boromir asked suddenly. She bowed her head so that her straight locks created a curtain of hair around her face and quickly stepped past him.

"Lord Elrond won't 'permit' me to go with you," she said crossly, "He said he'd make arrangements for me to 'return to my people' 'in time.'"

"Are you crying?" he asked, keeping up with her pace. From what he could tell she was stubborn and somewhat foolish, but certainly not prone to tears.

"I'm not," she said adamantly.

"Then why are you hiding your face?" he asked, craning to see beneath the shade of her hair. She matched his movements so he still couldn't see. He never had a little sister but if he did, he suspected it would have been like this.

"I'm not," she repeated, "Knock it off…"

"What are you crying for?" he asked like an older brother might, half mocking, half concerned.

"I already said I'm not crying," she snapped, at last revealing her face. Her eyes were pink and watery but narrowed in anger. She stalked away using her forearm to wipe away her tears. Of course he knew she had been determined to make him keep his promise and for _him _to take her home, but for what reason he did not fully understand. She wanted to go home; yet it was not as if Lord Elrond barred her from ever leaving. Was this simply impatience that made her so eager to follow after him? Or perhaps her mulish nature forced her to stick with whatever she set her mind to do, no matter the situation. Yet seeing her so upset gave him pause about his theories. Impatience and stubbornness certainly could not have brought her to tears... he thought better than to chase after her – he had no desire to deal with an emotional woman who would likely send him away anyhow. He did, however, start making his way to find Lord Elrond.

Not only were her actions a mystery, but he found his own decision to be quite perplexing. Had his sympathy for the girl been born of their common heritage? Or did his own strong desire to leave this foreign place urge him to also offer the girl reprieve from these strange lands? In some ways she reminded him of his younger brother, in some ways she reminded him of the younger, more foolish version of himself, even of his men during their first days in training. How could he leave her here for an indefinite amount of time and worse break his promise. He thought of her childish ritual, the "pinky swear" she called it. He could hear her words in his head_ ...breaking it is a serious breach of friendship, or family, or love, or whatever the heck kind of relationship you have with that person._

Those words repeated in his mind several times as he made his way to Lord Elrond's study. The door was ajar so he knocked lightly.

"May I have a word with you, Lord Elrond?" asked Boromir.

"What can I do for you?" asked Elrond, rising from his desk. Despite being busy the son of the Steward of Gondor required a certain level of respect at the very least.

"I must request that you to allow Eileen to accompany me on the return journey to Gondor," Boromir said sternly.

"For what reason?" asked Elrond with poorly masked agitation.

"I have taken responsibility for her well-being and the only way I can ensure her safety is to keep her at my side," Boromir answered.

"I can assure you she will be kept quite safe in Rivendell," answered Elrond.

"She has no desire to stay here," Boromir replied, "And to leave her behind would certainly cause her a great level of distress, which one may argue will not do her well."

"One _may_ argue," Elrond repeated, "Though your argument is not without reason, I warrant that death is far more harmful to her than... than, what? Anger? Sadness? She is a _child_."

"I have heard tale that you can glimpse into the future," Boromir said, "If that is true, I would urge you to look forward and see what harm will come should she accompany me."

"Her future is obscured beyond my sight," Elrond answered.

"Then look into my future," Boromir answered, "Perhaps you will catch a glimpse of her fate by seeing mine."

_oooOOOOOOOOooo_

Days later Eileen's chambermaid handed her a letter in a neatly folded envelope. "Shall I read it to you?" she asked.

"No, I can read it," Eileen said.

"You can read?" she asked with astonishment.

"Well... yea, of course I can," she snorted, snagging the letter from the she-elf.

"Forgive me, but many of the common folk of your race do not have that skill," replied her chambermaid.

"Maybe I'm not 'common folk,'" Eileen replied, lying across her bed with her feet jutting off the side. Eagerly she tore the envelope and began reading... she rapidly murmured the words to herself and then suddenly her face lit up. "...as such I have decided that you may accompany – YES!" she burst.

_Meanwhile..._

"What changed your mind?" asked Gandalf.

"I glimpsed into Boromir's future and saw only two paths, clear as day," Lord Elrond replied gravely, "I fear the consequences should she remain here."

_oooOOOOOOOOooo_

The days passed strangely in Imladris. Each day dawned with cloudless skies, the air was neither cold nor hot, and rest came easily. Like the atmosphere, so did Eileen's archery skills remain the same. Despite practicing morning after morning her arrows would not find the center of her target. She fired arrows until her arms grew too sore to go on – some days the muscles refused to pull the bowstring more than a handful of times. Her muscle ache brought back a few memories of a strange place with machines that allowed people to run for miles without going anywhere and racks upon racks of weights. Included in her memory was a friend who was painful to remember – Brian, a boy she knew since early childhood who was like a brother to her. She missed him the second her mind's eye offered an image of his face. Apparently they ran in place and lifted weights together. Still, the memories of the bizarre facility gave her more confusion than clarity. When she described this place to anyone willing to listen they simply stared.

Other memories came; of her father playing guitar, her older brother tackling her in a field of grass as she carried an oddly shaped brown ball, the taste of a fizzy beverage, riding a two-wheeled vehicle with pedals, rolling a handful of multi-sided dice...

But today she would not dwell on her unstable memory and instead resolved to hit the bullseye, as she had every previous day. She strapped the same elvish quiver to her back and slung the dark bow with silver decorations across her shoulder. She very nearly forgot her glove and bracer, also given to her by Lord Elrond.

Effortlessly she navigated the many halls and corridors until she reached the green shooting range. However, she was surprised to find that one of its targets was already in use. A tall man with long, dark hair stood stoically firing arrows, nearly all of which hit the center of the target. Always she had practiced alone; the thought of someone else seeing her terrible performance filled her with apprehension. Tensely she turned around, deciding that perhaps she would return later...

However, the man had already sensed her presence and turned to greet her. "Good morning," he said kindly.

She halted in her tracks and sheepishly turned around. "Good morning," she chirped with a nervous lilt.

"Have you come to practice your marksmanship?" he asked. If he were Boromir she'd suspect he was mocking her. However his voice gave no indication of a jest.

"Um... well," she stammered.

"It's alright," he assured, "I only need one target after all and there are many."

"Okay..." she said, heading towards the range once more. As she drew near the man smiled pleasantly.

"You must be Boromir's ward," he said, "Eileen is it?"

"Yes," she answered shyly, "That's me."

"It is good to meet you," he said, "I am Aragorn."

"Ohhh... my friends told me about you. They call you Strider, right?" Eileen said, her face lighting up.

"I am also called Strider," Aragorn laughed.

"That means you're one of the people Boromir will be traveling with," Eileen said.

"Yes," answered Aragorn, "I hear you will also come with us."

Eileen scratched her arm and replied, "Yea, I'm trying to practice archery so I can defend myself if it gets dangerous."

"It is a good skill to have," Aragorn agreed, "How good are you?"

She chuckled and shook her head, "I'm alright, I guess."

"Let me see you shoot," Aragorn encouraged.

"I get nervous when people watch..." she mumbled. Aragorn laughed lightly and waited. It seemed he would not take "No" for an answer.

She pulled an arrow from her quiver and took her time notching it. As Boromir instructed the first time, she tried to take aim and release quickly. Her arrow found the target but, as usual, only managed to pierce the outermost ring. She sighed as she reached for a second arrow.

"Wait a moment," Aragorn said, stepping towards her, "Let me help with your form."

"Boromir said I had good form..." Eileen said in a mildly defensive tone.

"Your form is good, but it can be better," Aragorn said, "You should push the bow forward with your left hand as your right hand draws the string back. You can fire more quickly if you complete this motion as you raise your bow to fire." Aragorn stood behind her, guiding her arms as he gave instructions. "Now keep the arrow parallel with the ground... and don't look at the tip of your arrow. Look where you want the arrow to go," he said, "And... when you're ready, fire."

_THUD!_

Eileen shielded the sun from her eyes and stared in disbelief. "Oh my God... it hit the bullseye!" she cheered, "I can't even believe it!"

"Remember to focus on your target and your arrow will fly true," Aragorn said kindly.

"Thanks," said Eileen. They went on practicing together for a while and said farewell when lunchtime rolled around. Every so often she would find Aragorn at the shooting range and he would give her advice to improve her skills.

_oooOOOOOOOOooo_

Unlike the other rooms in Rivendell, Bilbo's quarters were equipped with furniture to match his small stature. Next to his short bed sat a side table that stood just past Eileen's knees. Eileen was thankful for the full-sized chair near the corner of the room when Bilbo asked her to sit down.

"What can I do for you, my girl?" Bilbo asked pleasantly as eased himself into his own chair, "I've just had some tea brought with cakes – do you like cakes?"

"I love cakes," Eileen answered cheerfully, "And tea, too."

"Of course you do, of course," Bilbo said, rising from his chair only moments after sitting.

"I can get it," Eileen insisted.

"No, no," he said, "Everyone's always waiting on me but I like to do things for myself. I'm old, but I'm not too old to pour myself a cup of tea." That was all it took for Eileen to decide she liked the elderly hobbit. Evidently he was over 100 years old and still kicking; she never would have guessed.

She received her cup of tea and held it in her palms, breathing in the scent. "Is there anything in Rivendell that isn't good?" she asked before taking a careful sip of the steaming liquid.

"Not that I've found," Bilbo said, "Perhaps the company can be a little dry at times, but that's elves, you know. Or do you?"

"I'm not sure," she giggled.

"Ah yes, you have quite a dilemma," Bilbo said, "And a strange one at that. What has Lord Elrond told you of it?"

"I guess... the poison was meant to suppress my memories so that if I joined the side of the enemy I wouldn't hesitate to follow orders," Eileen explained.

"Dreadful," said Bilbo, "But that is not why you have come."

"Actually I was hoping that you could tell me about your adventures," Eileen said. His wrinkled face lit up immediately and he took off talking...

She visited the old hobbit several times during the remainder of her time in Rivendell. Talking with Bilbo usually didn't stir memories but it certainly helped her learn various things about Middle Earth, bits of history, and most importantly, of the Dark Lord Sauron.

_oooOOOOOOOOooo_

Autumn came and went, and even in Imladris Eileen could feel to chill of winter beginning to set in. During the two months she spent there she practiced her archery and learned what she could from Bilbo and the hobbits. She even had the opportunity to meet the other members of the "Fellowship," what Eileen formerly knew as a "band of travelers on an errand against Sauron." As well as the hobbits, Boromir, and Aragorn, a dwarf named Gimli was also a member of their company who Eileen liked the day she met him. Legolas, the fair-haired Elvish Prince of Mirkwood, treated her like the rest of the elves she met – courteously and yet condescendingly. Apparently he was miffed that Eileen's coming was amongst the reasons why other elves of Elrond's choosing were not included in the Fellowship. Last and only very briefly she was introduced to the wizard Gandalf. He spoke with her kindly and offered his sympathies regarding her bout of memory loss. After a smile and a nod he went on his way.

The day before they were to set out, she packed her bags and checked them again, three times, four times. _If you found our short walk to Rivendell uncomfortable, you'd best prepare yourself for the real journey ahead of us tomorrow, _Boromir said to her. When she finally felt confident she had all she needed she attempted to lift her pack. "Ooohhf..." Eileen grunted. She hardly managed to get the straps around her shoulders and found the weight unbearable. She let it slide to the floor with a loud _THUMP!_

"Well maybe I don't need so many blankets..." she muttered, untying two of the four strapped to the outside. As she reconsidered each item crammed into her pack she found herself removing nearly half the original items. This time when she lifted the bag onto her back it was heavy but not unreasonably so. "But..." she said, having second thoughts again about the things she took out. She wanted to pull out her hair. She was clueless as to what was absolutely necessary and what was simply a comfort she would hate to miss. She spent all night packing then unpacking, arranging and rearranging, pacing and stressing until the sun came out.

Laying atop her covers surrounded by her various belongings she finally fell asleep...

* * *

Let me know what you think by reviewing! In the next chapter the Fellowship beings their journey! Again, Ch. VI should be out shortly and I can promise some fluffy fluff =D

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, especially stickdonkey for all of her helpful input! If you haven't already, check out her fic _Of Extras and Unexpected Consequences_! See you soon!

-SSJKarigan


	7. Nocturnal Ventures of a Morning Person

Ch. VI – The Nocturnal Ventures of a Morning Person

So the journey begins! Enjoy!

* * *

At the advice of Lord Elrond, and to Eileen's great displeasure, the company would set out at dusk to journey through the night in hopes of avoiding unfriendly eyes. During the months that passed Eileen learned that she was very much a morning person – she liked the sound of bird chatter as the sun crept through her window in the early hours of the day. While she had been willing to sleep away the daylight hours when she traveled with Boromir, she certainly didn't prefer it. And now that she wasn't sick she was convinced sleep would not come so easily during the day, especially after maintaining a consistent schedule in Rivendell.

The sun was setting as everyone met in the grand hall by the fire and she could not help from yawning. She had slept for the better part of the day after staying up all night with her packing ordeal, but it only left her drowsy and yearning for more sleep. Her lethargy did not go unnoticed, and Gimli leaned towards her to mutter, "Don't tell me you're already tired, lassie."

She looked at him dryly and opened her mouth to defend herself, but found that all drowsiness had left her when Boromir blew his mighty horn. She jolted with fright, allowing Gimli to laugh at her expense. Lord Elrond, on the other hand, was much less amused and openly warned Boromir against sounding the horn again any time soon. Had it been her, Eileen would have felt terribly embarrassed, but Boromir maintained that he did not regret his action. She wondered if anything could squelch his pride...

Nearly all the Fellowship had gathered in the hall, even Bill the pony. Only Gandalf had yet to come out of the house and join the others. Meeting him the other day, however momentarily, had felt like seeing a fictional character come to life. The way Frodo and Uncle Bilbo spoke of him made him seem like a living legend. So powerful and yet so compassionate; with Gandalf on their side, how dangerous could things really get? She looked forward to seeing him again and was comforted to know he would be leading their Fellowship.

Eileen wandered to where Boromir waited, standing proudly and patiently. She envied his undaunted nature in the face of another long journey ahead of them. She had familiarized herself with the others but she remained disposed to hover around Boromir. "Thanks for the wake-up," she said to him wryly.

"It is not too late to change your mind," he reminded her for the nth time.

"Yea, I know," Eileen replied, adjusting the bow slung across her back. The Fellowship intended to travel light in both supplies as well as arms, but Eileen had been adamant about her bow. Boromir insisted upon a dagger for her as well, which she strapped to her thigh. Though she had grown fairly capable with her bow, he fostered doubts about her ability to defend herself. Whether or not her newfound skills would transfer in a real skirmish remained in question. All the same, better to have _something_, and a dagger might prove more useful to her in the heat of battle.

As well as her bow, Elrond provided her with clothing fit for travel: Leather breeches, tall walking boots, and a brown tunic with a woolen cloak draped behind her. Initially she had been offered clothing more suitable for a woman but she insisted on breeches over dresses. The last she wanted was to be hindered by her clothing. She used a thin strip of leather to tie her hair into a ponytail. Her bangs hung at the sides of her face, parted to the left as always. Last, but certainly not least, was a new archer's glove and bracer, both a very dark shade of brown with silver adornments to match her bow. She also had her small pack as well. Inside she stowed a single, thick blanket and small pillow, a thin comb, a few packs of matches with flint and stone, a mess kit with a canteen, a small length of rope, few bars of soap wrapped in a cloth, and a roll of bandages with a little jar of medicinal herbs. She also included a few spare chemises and two extra pairs of breeches. She wished to bring more extra clothing but felt foolish cramming a week's worth of clothes knowing full well she'd be the only one. She would wait to shoulder her bag until Gandalf arrived. When at last the wizard appeared they were bidden farewell by Lord Elrond his household. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom..." he began. As he went on, he said that only Frodo was held by oath to finished the quest. Lord Elrond made mentioned of a ring, one to be kept from the enemy and his servants, only to be handled by Frodo and members of the Council and Company.

Eileen understood little of Lord Elrond's words. She watched Boromir shift his weight and wondered about this "ring." _Our friend has something the enemy wants_, she remembered Pippin saying. Was that _something_ this ring Lord Elrond spoke of? _What on Earth would some evil tyrant want with a ring? _she thought. Never in her wildest dreams could she have guessed the connotation of that single piece of jewelry. A heaviness fell upon Elrond and his household said farewell to the Fellowship. In the end Bilbo was the last to say goodbye, wishing Frodo good luck. With that, the Fellowship departed into the dusk.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

Elrond had also been kind enough to provide the members of the company with warm clothing lined with fur, but once they set out the chill night air managed to pierce through every layer. Eileen wrapped her arms about herself as they walked, shivering with eyes fixed upon the ground before her. When dawn finally broke and the air was at its coldest they stopped to rest. Between the brisk winter air and the gravity of the arduous journey ahead, many could not find sleep.

Eileen lay huddled in a ball a few yards away from the rest of the group, pleading for her mind to shut off and allow her to doze. She wanted badly to shimmy up alongside the rest of the company, but it her companions expressed that it was improper for a woman to sleep in close proximity to the male members of their group; in other words, everyone except her. Hours later, finally numb to the cold and too mentally exhausted to think, Eileen discovered that her eyes refused to shut beneath the light of the overcast sun, no matter how faint.

At times she found it was easier to volunteer to take first watch so that her wakefulness would at least not go to waste. She was glad that watches were done in pairs and, so long as she was not _sleeping_, she could sit as near her partner as she liked. Gimli never minded huddling together and Aragorn would sit with her shoulder to shoulder. It was especially comforting to watch with Merry or Pippin who would clump alongside her.

"I wonder if Elrond was right..." Pippin said dismally one day when he and Eileen took watch together.

"You mean that we shouldn't have come?" Eileen asked in a low voice so as not to disturb the others. He nodded.

"Every night is too long and too cold. All I want in the world is a warm bed and a hot meal," Pippin lamented.

"I think everyone feels that way... a hot meal sure sounds nice," Eileen sighed dreamily, "But I don't think we should regret having come."

"What if we're not cut out for this?" Pippin said as much to himself as he did to Eileen.

"Tough it out," Eileen said as she playfully leaned into him. Pippin fiddled with a single, hardy blade of grass. Eileen was amazed that anything could grow in those barren lands at all.

"What made you want come?" Pippin asked abruptly. Eileen readjusted her position on the ground and thought for a moment.

"I want to go home," Eileen answered.

"Of course you do," Pippin allowed, "But you could have traveled with anyone whenever you wanted."

"Boromir promised he would take me back with him..." Eileen explained, but Pippin did not find her answer to be sufficient.

"Have you become good friends?" Pippin asked.

"Well ye-... well, no, actually," Eileen admitted, scratching at her arm.

"I thought you were companions," Pippin said as his eyes drifted up to the clouds.

"I don't know... If it weren't for him, I'd probably be dead," Eileen said contemplatively, "I don't know if he thinks of me as his friend or anything, but I like being around him, even if he thinks I'm annoying. He makes me feel safe."

"I see," Pippin said with a toothy grin.

"What?" Eileen asked, her face twisting into a pout, "What are you getting at?"

"He is rather handsome, isn't he?" Pippin teased.

"Come on now, don't be like that," Eileen grunted, but for the first time in weeks her cheeks actually felt warm, "Sue me for liking the dude who saved my life."

"Dude?" Pippin repeated with confusion.

"Uh... it means like, man or guy or whatever," Eileen tried to explain.

"You speak so strangely," Pippin said.

"I know," she sighed. After a pause she quietly asked, "Can you keep that between you and me?"

"You _do _fancy him," Pippin exclaimed.

"Shhh!"

"I knew it!" he said with restrained excitement, "Merry and I came after Frodo because he's our cousin, you know, and we couldn't let someone we care for go off without us. It's the same for you, isn't it?"

"Knock it off," she whispered sharply, "What if he hears you?"

"I can see these things," Pippin boasted while ignoring her completely, "I'm quite perceptive, more than the others would have you believe."

"Yea, well you'll be _quite_ dead if you don't pipe down," Eileen hissed.

"Keep quiet," Sam complained in a harsh whisper, "Mr. Frodo's tryin' to sleep."

Eileen stuck her tongue out at the hobbit and he responded in kind. To her great displeasure, the rest of the watch was either spent in silence or with Pippin's cheeky jibes.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

Eileen had attempted to huddle next to Boromir when they took watch together, but he wholeheartedly resisted. At first she thought this strange, as they had traveled closely on the ride to Rivendell. He tended her wounds and helped her with her archery; sometimes he had taken meals with her in Rivendell. However, he explained, "You were ill when we rode to Rivendell, it would have been irresponsible to not keep you warm." Now that there was no reason to sit close, he did not. She had no wounds to tend and everyone ate together anyway. The situation left Eileen feeling unreasonably irritated and she wondered about the words she exchanged with Pippin. Quickly she dismissed the thought and carried on her watch with Boromir in an uncomfortable silence.

The nights were cold and dreary, the mornings clouded yet still too bright to sleep, and meals were bland and as chill as the air around them. Eileen worried that she would be expected to mingle and make idle chat with the others as they walked, but they spoke hardly a word, save a few weary whispers between the hobbits or a bit of grave speech between Gandalf and Aragorn. She was glad for it, for she did not have the will to speak much by now. She didn't know how her legs kept moving every night, one foot before the other without much sleep or sun or food, but somehow they did.

On a particularly dreary march, she found her lids shutting as she walked, and it was only when she stumbled into Boromir that she realized she had drifted to sleep on her feet. Wordlessly he steadied the weary girl and she croaked a quiet, "Thanks." The march went on for a fortnight until at last a morning came with true, unclouded sunlight. Even in the chill winter air, the sun felt warm on Eileen's pink cheeks.

She heaved a sigh of relief when Gandalf announced they had completed a major portion of their journey, and especially that the weather would become milder from here on out. They even had the benefit of a fire and a warm meal prepared in the clearing of a copse of holly bushes. Until now they had feared to risk a fire but Gandalf expressed his confidence that they were largely out of the enemy's sight. More than anything else, Eileen was overjoyed to learn that they would rest until morning next and begin marching in the light of day. Eileen removed her boots and scooted in close to the fire to warm her near-frozen toes.

"Won't that make you colder?" Sam asked aghast.

"Nah, this way I can feel the heat from the fire right away," Eileen explained as she munched on her hot supper/breakfast, "Aren't you barefoot all the time?"

"Of course," Sam said, "But hobbit feet are made to go without."

"It is a bit warmer," Gimli said, and he too removed his boots and joined Eileen next to the little fire. Eileen made quick work of her meal and could have gone for seconds and thirds, but she knew better than to ask. Instead she let her feet, hands, and cheeks warm up by the fire. Once the feeling started to return, she massaged her aching feet.

"I never thought I could walk so much," she murmured as she firmly rubbed her aching soles.

"All this marching hurting your wee feet?" Gimli teased, "Such a journey is not fit for a lass."

"Oh, so you're going to tell me your feet don't hurt?" Eileen huffed, "If you said they didn't, I think you'd be lying."

"I'm no liar. We dwarves are a sturdy folk, made to march great distances without fatigue," Gimli grunted, "And I meant no offense, lassie. In fact, I'm surprised you have kept up so well, especially in this chill."

"Yea, me too," she admitted with a tired smile, "But honestly, I'd take the cold over the heat any day."

"Would you now?" Gimli said with interest.

"Think about it; when it's cold out you try and move around as much as you can to stay warm, right? So you feel motivated to _keep_ moving. And you can add as many layers as can fit to stay warm. But shit, when it's hot? You feel all sluggish and tired. It's just sweaty, smelly misery, and you can only take off so much before people start to stare, you know?" Eileen said with some humor in her voice.

Gimli let out a hardy laugh and slapped her hard on the back, "You have a point there, lassie, you have a point."

"Right?" Eileen squeaked, feeling the sting on her back. She hid her wince with a stiff smile.

"I prefer neither," Pippin interjected, "The heat is bad and so is this cold. I can't feel my toes and the wind cuts right through me."

"Cheer up, Pip, it's going to get warmer from here on out, remember?" said Merry.

"Annnnd we get to walk during the day now," Eileen chimed happily, "This fire is great, but I can't wait to walk under the sun and sleep at _night_."

"Not to mention have some warm food every day," Merry added.

"Aye," said Gimli, his smile showing through his beard, "For now the road will be easier, but don't let yourselves be tricked into thinking it won't get harder as well."

Eileen considered Gimli's words as she snuggled beneath her blanket for her rest. For the first time in a while she drifted to sleep quickly and slept more soundly than she had in Rivendell even. Yet the very next day they received some rather unfortunate news...

"Well if that isn't a plague and nuisance!" complained Pippin.

Eileen felt as disappointed and agitated as Pippin, but she at least knew better than to vocalize her discontent. Any complaint made thus far was either ignored completely or met with a swift lecture. Indeed, to hear that they would continue traveling by night and taking their meals cold was utterly demoralizing. Her only comfort was feeling better rested than she had in weeks. They began their dreary march once again that evening, ever on the lookout for _crebain, _the vile black birds that caused them to lose their warm meals and day marches. Eileen wanted badly to dismiss their suspicions as paranoia; after all, they were just _birds_. Even so, she kept her mouth shut.

Next morning was her turn to take first watch alongside Boromir. The sun rose steadily in the east, and despite not having warm meals or sleep in darkness, the days grew warmer and without much wind. Eileen let out a sigh and raised her face to the sunlight. She let her eyes close a moment to feel the warmth of the sun's rays upon her eyelids.

"Have you need of rest? I can take the watch alone if you wish," Boromir said quietly.

"I'm alright," she answered, opening her eyes with a small, pleasant smile on her face, "I was just feeling the sun."

"As you say," Boromir replied. Eileen pulled her legs to her chest and scanned the lands around them; the day was entirely quiet. Even the slow, steady breaths of the other members seemed to make a ruckus in the silence. It made Eileen uneasy. She eyed the sky for any signs of the large, black crows Aragorn called _crebain. _She reminded herself that they were just birds but the thought of being _watched _by a murder of crows gave her the shivers. Everyday the weight of her situation grew heavier on her mind.

"I don't think I've ever experienced quiet like this," Eileen said barely at a whisper.

"No, it is not natural," Boromir agreed in an equally low whisper.

"Do you think something is going to happen?" Eileen asked, half-afraid to hear an answer.

"Perhaps," Boromir replied vaguely, "Our best hope is to do as we have been and travel under cover of darkness. Fear not, no harm will come to you as long as you are under my care."

His words may not have indicated anything more than his chivalrous nature, or perhaps his honor at keeping his word, but she was deeply comforted to hear them. Her growing anxiety began to subside immediately, even in the stark silence encompassing them. The relieved smile that spread across her lips could not be helped.

"That's why I wanted to come with you," she whispered out of the blue. He glanced at her sidelong and almost seemed to roll his eyes. "You... you saved my life, after all," she went on, attempting to cover up any misunderstanding, "And you're the only person I really know."

"That may be true," Boromir allowed, "But it would have been better had you stayed in Rivendell. This path is a perilous one."

"Does that mean you're worried about me?" Eileen asked teasingly.

"Of course," he answered sternly, staring straight at her, "I have taken responsibility for your safety, and I would see you home in one piece." Though his words were meant kindly, she felt somewhat aggravated, as if she'd been hoping for a different sort of answer. _You're being ridiculous, _she thought to herself, _What were you expecting, a confession? _

She pulled her legs in tighter and her glance drifted downwards as she quietly said, "Thanks for looking out for me."

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

One sunny morning Eileen had the pleasure of taking watch with Gandalf. She had been under the impression that he would have few words for her but was pleasantly surprised when he asked, "How is that memory of yours, my dear?"

"I don't know," Eileen conceded, "Just about all the things I remember are either completely random or... confusing."

"Perhaps I can shed some light," he offered.

"Well... I keep having memories of..." she said, grasping for the right word, "Machines?"

"By machines do you mean mechanical effects?" he asked.

"Yes and no," she said, "Some of them are mechanical but... some of the strangest things I remember are these great big carriage things made entirely out of metal that can move without horses. Or wide, flat boxes that show moving images."

"Hmmm..." From his pocket he brought out a long wooden pipe and a small leather sack of pipe weed.

"Do... you know what I'm talking about?" she asked timidly. Amongst the various positive traits others used to describe Gandalf, chief among them was quick-tempered.

"Allow me a moment to think," he answered as he packed his pipe. She twiddled her thumbs as he lit the tightly packed leaves before taking a long drag. The smoke crept from lips in spiraling wisps at first and soon formed a wide cloud. Slowly the cloud unfurled to reveal a misty, horseless carriage bumbling through the air.

"How did you do that?" she asked in wonder. He smiled knowingly.

"Was the image I provided like the machines in your memory?" he asked.

"Oh, well... unfortunately, no," Eileen admitted.

"Have you considered that your memories may not be accurate?" he asked gently. The carriage faded into thin air.

"I have," she said nodding, "That's why I'm so confused. It's like I don't know what's what. The only things that seem real are the ones right in front of me."

"It must be difficult for you," he said gently.

"I suppose. I do have memories of my family and my friends," she said warmly, "The places we're in, the things we're doing, they're strange and confusing but, I know the people are real. I miss them..."

"I have faith that you will see them again," Gandalf comforted. His wrinkled visage portrayed an old man, but like Elrond his eyes betrayed the truth. A wizard they called him, and a powerful one at that, but in the confines of his heart existed a being that above all else loved and treasured those who were close to him. He made it his mission to serve and protect the inhabitants of Middle Earth. For no other gains did he lead this Fellowship, and only by the kindness in his heart did he offer this bewildered, estranged girl his council. "I believe that there is purpose to all that happens," he said, "Perhaps your memory loss will serve you some purpose that you cannot yet see, like your coming with us."

"Did you tell that to Lord Elrond?" Eileen asked smiling.

"He seems to agree with the sentiment," Gandalf answered vaguely.

"Is that why he let me come?" she asked eagerly.

"Come now, child, tell me more of your memories," he encouraged, "I will do what I can to help you solve this mystery of yours." For now Gandalf decided it would be best not to reveal Elrond's visions to the girl. However, when chance arose Gandalf would take the time to listen to her account of her memories, no matter how bizarre or seemingly unimportant.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

Many days came and went, and eventually paired watches turned into lone watches. No matter how many days she spent laying in her bedroll on those cool mornings, sleep would not find her for hours at a time. Often an entire rest period would pass without a wink of sleep. She stumbled through the cold nights like the walking dead. There were times when she simply gave up trying and sat awake with whoever took watch.

One afternoon, the sun shone so brightly that she could see the red glow of sunlight behind her eyelids. She knew rest would not come so she sat up to find Boromir taking watch. Her heart sank and she debated lying back down until someone else took watch in his stead. Their relationship had become cool and formal, leaving her wondering what she had done to be treated so frostily. As she turned to adjust her bedroll, Boromir glanced back at her.

"You have not rested in some time," he stated.

"It's too cold... And without much shade it feels like the sun goes right through my eyelids," she answered tiredly, "I think I liked the clouds better after all..."

"Perhaps if you cannot sleep you can keep watch," he suggested.

"I can take my turn now, I guess," she mumbled, crawling from her bedroll. She sat on the stony ground not three feet from her blanket and rested her chin on her hands. She noticed that Boromir had not moved from his perch on a small bolder and was looking at her expectantly. "Aren't you... gonna sleep?" she asked.

"I also cannot find rest," he explained.

"Oh," she murmured before crawling over to where he sat. She planted her butt some distance away from him. She sat hunched forward with crossed legs and quietly she began to hum an unfamiliar tune.

"What are you singing?" he asked, just as he had when they were traveling to Rivendell, now so long ago.

"Along the way to close my eyes, I lost where I was going, the more it will spin, the more that I try... to stop my mind flowing away, away, to all that I despise, along the way to close my eyes..." Eileen sang quietly, then abruptly stopped. (Flowing by 311)

"Is that all?" Boromir asked.

"All that I remember, yea," Eileen answered, "I forget the rest."

"What does it mean?"

"The song is about not being able to fall asleep," Eileen replied grimly.

"I see," he said with a wry half-smile.

"I thought it was fitting," she said before yawning deeply, "I'd give anything for a nap."

"You slept easily enough when we traveled to Rivendell," Boromir mentioned, "Day or night."

"Yea?" Eileen said grumpily, "Maybe it was because I wasn't treated like a leper."

"Leper?" Boromir scoffed, "Hardly."

"It feels that way. Everyone else gets in on some shared body heat..." she whined.

"Why don't you go share some body heat with the dwarf, then?" Boromir teased, "He would fancy that, I'm sure. I think he's taken quite a liking to you."

"Maybe _you _should share some body heat with him," Eileen retorted, "_You_ would fancy that, I'm sure."

Boromir chuckled quietly but kept his gaze towards the lands before them. Eileen watched his grey eyes scan the horizon for some indication of a threat. Though his duty was to search for danger, his handsome face seemed peaceful, almost content. The girl wondered how it would feel place a hand upon his cheek, or to look directly into his stormy eyes. She bit her lip but could not divert her stare. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"Twenty-two," he said thoughtfully, "I scantly remember what it means to be so young."

"You say that like you're old or something," Eileen said doubtfully as she drew in the dirt with a stick, "How old are you anyways?"

"How old do you think I am?" he asked playfully, finding that he still enjoyed teasing the young girl.

"Definitely no older than my dad," she answered

"I am curious to know how old he is," said Boromir.

"Forty-something," Eileen answered vaguely, "Maybe... 42, 44?"

"I could not imagine already having a grown child," Boromir said thoughtfully, "But you are close in guessing my age."

"So I'm grown, am I?" Eileen challenged.

"That does not mean you are not _young_," Boromir argued.

"Are you like thirty or forty then?" Eileen guessed, having ignored his previous statement to change the subject.

"Yes, I am _like forty_" he answered, poorly mimicking her accent. Eileen opened her mouth with exaggerated horror that he would mock her in such a way. She choked back a small gasp.

"Fine, you win, you're old. _Does that please you_?" she teased, using a rough version of his accent.

He leaned back as if giving her words some thought. "Yes," he answered slowly, "That is, the winning part. And that is not at all what I sound like."

"You're killing me," Eileen grumbled. She yawned and stretched her legs out before her, leaning back on her hands. The sun felt warm against her cheeks, and she was surprised at the drowsiness accompanying it. She carefully laid herself down on her back and looked up at Boromir with sleepy eyes. Although she was tired, her eyes gleamed in the sunlight, green here, brown there, and speckled with gold. Her face was dirty but somehow it only added charm to her features. He hadn't noticed before that her nose was speckled with faint freckles and her cheekbones were tinted pink from mild sunburn, he suspected. He had always believed that fair, unblemished skin was favorable in a woman, but looking down at the rambunctious girl with her freckles and sunburn gave him second thoughts.

Most of the women he had met seemed to _want _something from him – wealth, status… he wondered what a girl like her wanted. She was stubborn and her manners were crude but she always expressed her gratitude. She laughed and joked easily, rarely took real offense, and she made no effort to be anything but herself. To Boromir, this was quite refreshing considering the kinds of women he was used to – the taut courtesy from servants and chambermaids, and the superficiality from noble women. When she noticed him watching her, she smiled warmly and stared back from her inverted position.

"Why not take some rest?" he suggested quietly.

"I am," she answered, and let her lids close for some much needed sleep.

"You complain of feeling cold yet you fall asleep with not so much as a blanket," he grunted.

"I feel safer near you," she murmured, rolling on to her side towards him. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing became slow and even. Her lips parted. The weariness left her face.

He sighed heavily and decided to let her sleep, as it might be the only sleep she would find that day. When Boromir's watch ended, he did not rouse the others and instead took her watch as well. He looked on as she slept and wondered, when was the last he really watched a woman at rest? Had he ever? Perhaps only the women he had bedded, women he cared little for. It was not his custom to court – his love and devotion were reserved for his country and his people, not for any woman.

Laying there with a small, satisfied smile on her face, she was undoubtedly pleasant to gaze upon. Even so, many women were pleasing to the eye and that meant nothing. If he were after beauty alone he could seek a more attractive woman than the girl sleeping on the ground. Indeed, he felt fond of her, but he wasn't sure what it meant. What _did_ this girl mean to him? He could still not figure out why he argued for her to come with, not that he would ever let her find out about that. It was not until the end of her watch that Aragorn awoke to relieve him of his duty. The man took notice of the girl sleeping on the ground.

"I could not rouse her," Boromir explained tiredly, "So I allowed her to sleep there."

"Better to let her sleep," Aragorn agreed. But as soon as Boromir left, her eyes opened lazily.

"Is it my turn?" she asked drowsily.

"Boromir took your watch for you," Aragorn answered, "You may rest for the remainder of the day."

"Oh," she said with some disappointment in her voice, "He went to sleep, then."

"He did," Aragorn confirmed. He could detect her distress and pondered over the scene before him. He knew the poor child did not rest well – it was obvious in her face and in her slow, heavy steps when they marched. Yet here she was, able to sleep on the ground without so much as a blanket, looking as comfortable as if she had a feather pillow beneath her head. Then, the moment Boromir left, she awoke. She was like a little duckling who mistook Boromir for her mother. Aragorn smiled to himself and shook his head as she pushed up off the ground.

Slowly she stood and made her way over to her bedroll where she was surprised to find an extra blanket. She knelt down beside her blankets and glanced around their camp. Sure enough, Boromir lie in his usual place less a layer. He appeared to be sleeping, despite the chill of the air.

She was too tired to make a fuss with any, "Oh no," "Really its okay," or "I couldn'ts." She simply buried herself beneath the additional layer and closed her eyes. Over time, her bedroll had absorbed her own personal scent, but she hadn't noticed it until the presence of another, more distinct scent. _Boromir_, she thought contentedly. She was asleep in a matter of minutes.

The sun was setting when next she awoke, feeling quite refreshed. She was not the last to get up and moving, as she had been too many times to keep count. She quickly packed her things with enough time to help others who were lagging behind. After all else was finished, she carefully rolled Boromir's blanket. She carried it as a child might carry a favorite stuffed animal, with two arms hugging it closely against herself.

"Thank you," she said as she surrendered it to him.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked. He did not reach for the blanket.

"I did, actually," she replied happily.

"Then you may keep it. I also slept well," he explained, then added in a lowered voice, "Unless of course, you would rather share body heat with the dwarf."

She pursed her lips and squeezed the blanket against her chest. "I bet that's why _you_ slept so well without your blanket," she said matter-of-factly.

"Hurry and finish packing, we need to keep moving," Boromir reminded her.

"I did… well," she murmured, looking down at the blanket in her hands. She wondered where she would cram it into her already crammed pack.

"Here," he said suddenly, reaching out to take it back, "I will carry it for you."

"Really? Thanks," Eileen said, handing it to him.

"If ever you cannot sleep for the chill, come and ask me for it," he said. She nodded and grinned unabashedly before trotting off to double check that her things were in order. Shortly after they set out.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

One evening, the thin strap of leather Eileen used for her hair had snapped into two pieces, both too small to use on their own. She stared at them in her palm with disbelief. Traveling great distances through the middle of nowhere meant no chance of a good cleaning or grooming. I took only a week without washing her hair for it to reach max oil saturation, a maddening sensation she'd already endured for weeks. Her only solace was in the fact that everyone else floated in that same boat – they all had greasy hair. But to feel it sitting about her cheeks and down her neck was unbearable. For many weeks that little, insignificant strip of leather offered her a small comfort. Now it was broken, irreparable, useless, _It's dead... _she thought remorsefully. For a moment she thought she might cry...

"What's the matter?" asked Aragorn.

"My hair tie..." Eileen said softly with undue fondness for the inanimate object. Aragorn shook his head and chuckled. "No, you do not understand," she said, "I... am dirty, and sweaty, and I smell – and I _never _smell bad, I'll have you know – and this was all I had."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Aragorn said, trying to sound sincere but failing.

"I can't go on like this," she said, striding away.

"Don't wander far from camp," he reminded her as he returned to his duties dismantling the company's bivouac.

She returned quickly holding a short, thin stick.

"What's that for?" asked Gimli with amusement.

"My hair," she grunted. She planted her butt on the ground and grabbed all of her locks in a pony tail, placing the stick beneath the hair. She began twisting the stick clockwise until all of her hair was gathered in a bunch with the stick pointing out the top. Finally she flipped the stick over, pushing it back down through her hair. Pippin stared in astonishment as her hair remained locked in place.

"What in the world..." Pippin murmured.

Eileen threw her fists in the air as though she had some great victory. "Hooo! What a relief," she sighed.

"How did you do that?" asked Pippin.

"It's an old trick I learned," Eileen boasted.

"Well it's quite a trick," Pippin assented.

"Come along," Gandalf chided. Eileen dusted herself off and they began another nightlong march.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

One morning as everyone took their breakfast/dinner the whole group seemed to glance up, some with faces of disgust. "Sorry," said Pippin nonchalantly. It seemed the young hobbit felt no shame in passing gas.

"In front of the lady!" Sam scolded.

Eileen snorted back a laugh, "Don't even worry about it, that is _nothing_."

"Really?" Gimli said.

"Trust me, I've smelled worse," Eileen said, "I have an older brother, and most of the memories I have of him are the ways he used to torment me when we were kids." By now the company seemed to be listening to her story. Her face scrunched in dismay as if relieving the moment she spoke of. "I don't remember what I ever did to deserve it, but my older brother used to fart on me. Like, knelt on my arms and let one rip this close to my face," Eileen explained, using her hands to show that his butt was no more than two centimeters away from her nose (AN: This story is absolutely true. My brother did shit like that to me all the time. It's so horrible, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy). Naturally Merry and Pippin burst out immediately burst out laughing while Gimli gave a hearty chuckle. Boromir held his face in his hand to hide a smile and Aragorn reacted much the same. The only people who did not appear amused were Legolas and Gandalf.

"What an unpleasant story," Legolas said distastefully.

"It really is," Eileen readily agreed, "It was terrible... and I can't say it happened only once."

"Your brother sounds cruel," Gimli laughed.

"Nah..." Eileen said with a wave of her hand, "He toughened me up. Now nothing bothers me." With Eileen's blessing Pippin broke wind again only this time quite loudly. At first Eileen merely laughed, but when the smell reached her nostrils...

"Oh dear God!" she gasped, pulling her shirt over her mouth and nose, "Statement retracted!" She stood up and scrambled away, wriggling uncomfortably as if to shake off a bug. Even Legolas and Gandalf found it difficult to resist a light chuckle.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

It was not until Eileen grew accustomed to toiling away at night and slumbering during the day that the snow-capped Caradhras rose before them. The sight of the mountains did not incite any memories and she felt a growing hesitance within herself. Gandalf and Aragorn debated their path at length though Eileen only picked up small tidbits of their hushed conversations.

"Are we... going to climb that mountain?" Eileen asked Legolas during one of their marches as the range drew nearer. For the most part the girl took care not to disturb the Prince – during her time in Rivendell she learned that elves were, without a doubt, the wisest, fairest beings in all of Middle Earth. They had been gifted with eternal life. Already she felt the weight of her own insignificance when speaking to the majority of the company, but the elf left her feeling as small and useless as a gnat. Thus far he had not treated her unkindly, but generally she was cautious to speak with him.

To her surprise he lightly answered, "It would seem so."

"That means we'll have to acclimate to the thin air..." she said meagerly.

"Our ascent will be slow," he assured, "You should have ample time to adjust."

"That's a relief," she breathed, "I don't think I've ever been in the mountains."

"I cannot imagine the thin air will do you more harm as your elder brother's mischief," Legolas said. A subtle flicker of amusement reflected in his eyes.

"Ah, I knew that story was funny," she said with satisfaction.

"Perhaps," he allowed. And perhaps Eileen would feel more comfortable with her immortal companion from then on. She adjusted her pack and watched as the snowy peak of the mountain caught the first light of the day, glimmering like a beacon. She only hoped the hike would be as fair as the sight before her. _Like an adventure_, she thought naively.

* * *

Again, thanks to all of those who reviewed! I'd also like to say it makes me really happy that people have favorited and followed this story! Hopefully there was enough fluff to satisfy you. I also had fun throwing some humor in there :D I realize this story might be moving a little slow, but I'm trying to keep it _realistic_. Relationships don't happen over night, especially with a guy like Boromir. Don't worry, I have lots and lots of fluff in store in the following chapters as well! Remember to review!


	8. Into Thin Air

Chapter VII – Into Thin Air

I really took my time on this one. It's funny, I had it all ready to go before I even posted the last chapter, but then last minute I decided to re-read it and make a few changes. That turned into several changes, which turned into adding content, which turned into moving half this chapter into the next chapter and... well I hafta say I like the finished product way more than the first draft. I'm glad I waited. Hopefully it was worth the wait for you as well. :) Without further ado...

* * *

The company made camp in the shadow of Caradhras while Gandalf and Aragorn debated their course. Eileen looked on apprehensively while the dispute lasted. By the expression on his face, Frodo seemed to share her concern. Since their departure they had spoken little. Often he took council with Gandalf during their marches or engaged in idle chat with his friends. From what she understood, the weight of the quest rested on _his_ shoulders. Of the many things Eileen recollected, her knowledge of psychology returned with unmatched potency. Concepts like the fundamental attribution error, the Five Factor Model of personality, chi-square and regression analysis, coding and encoding of knowledge, Piaget's model of child development; they were all there. However, empathy topped all other psychological interests. Perhaps she could share some empathy with the troubled halfling.

"They've sure been talking a while, huh?" Eileen said casually. Frodo watched guardedly as she approached. At her final step forward he took one step back. Her arm became a scratching post. She could only recall seeing that look from small children wary of her lip piercing.

"Indeed," he answered uneasily.

"I can hardly hear what they're saying, have you caught anything?" she asked lightly.

"Only some," he answered.

"Do you think we're going to go through the mountains?" she asked.

"By the sounds of it," Frodo replied.

"Yikes..." Eileen said sheepishly, "I'm a little nervous about the hike. I don't think I've ever been in the mountains before..."

"Neither have I, I'm a little nervous myself," Frodo answered with a faint smile.

"I guess we're both total newbies," she giggled.

"What is a newbie?" Frodo asked.

"Just like it sounds – someone who is _new_ to something," Eileen explained shrugging. "Is that another one of my weird words?" she asked timorously.

"It's not so strange when you explain it," Frodo said kindly, "I suppose we _are_ newbies."

"Then it's a good thing we have people like Aragorn and Gandalf to lead the way, yea? Maybe it's a good sign that they've been deliberating for so long – they must be putting a lot of thought into it," Eileen said glancing towards them.

"Yes," Frodo agreed, "I don't know what I would do without them."

"Yea, same here," Eileen said nodding. She chewed her lip and crossed her arms behind her back. "I was wondering..." she began quietly.

"Yes?"

"Nobody's really told me much about the... the quest," Eileen said awkwardly, "I'm sort of just tagging along with Boromir, but you knew that, of course. Anyways. Well, I know it's dangerous because we're doing something against the Enemy," she rambled on, "But honestly I have no idea what exactly we're doing, and Lord Elrond said something about a ring and how it's really all up to you, and... what is it exactly that you're supposed to do?"

"I must destroy it," Frodo answered heavily.

"It? The... oh, the ring, right," Eileen said scrambling to piece everything together.

Frodo smiled sadly. "No wonder Merry and Pippin have taken a liking to you," he said softly, "Only you and my cousins could ever speak so lightly of such a thing."

"Oh, no, no, no! I'm sorry, please don't take it that way, I'm not taking it lightly," she insisted. The hobbit's face brightened into a full smile.

"It's alright," he said, "It gladdens me to be able to speak lightly sometimes."

"Phew... well, happy to be of service," Eileen said. Questions remained on her mind but she saved them for another time, as Aragorn and Gandalf returned to the group to announce the results of their lengthy discussion. They opted to take the pass of Caradhras: the Redhorn Gate. Gandalf explained gravely that the pass may be watched and there was a very good chance for unsavory weather. As such they would need to head out sooner rather than late.

"I will add a word of advice, if I may," said Boromir. At his suggestion each member of the company should find a piece of wood, large as each could bear, lest the weather turn deathly cold. Eileen chose to interpret this as a contest; she sought for the biggest, best hunk of lumber she could find. She had to squat and use her legs to lift a massive chunk of dead wood and then propped it on her shoulder. It was two feet long and nearly a foot in diameter.

"Have you lost your wits?" Boromir asked, "Or do you truly believe you can hike a mountain with that on your shoulder?"

"I lifted it, didn't I?" she said proudly.

"Lifting something momentarily and carrying it over a mountain are two different things," he said.

"…Gandalf said it would only be two marches to the top of the pass," Eileen responded less confidently. Clearly this girl had _truly_ never been in the mountains.

"Yes, _uphill_ and in the snow and cold," he answered. Dismally she let the lumber slide from her shoulder and back into her arms. He watched, curious to know the weight of the little log. "Allow me," he said, relieving her of the burden. It had substantial weight, perhaps 60-70bs, and his eyes slightly widened. "You lifted this?" he asked with mild surprise.

"No, I used magic to float it onto my shoulder," she muttered sarcastically.

He narrowed his eyes a moment for the snide remark, but he expected no less from the girl. After a moment he said, "You're strong for a woman."

"I know," she said, placing her hands on her hips proudly.

"But I would still urge you to find another piece of wood to carry," he said, "You heard Gandalf, we must make haste."

And so she scurried to where the hobbits searched for a more appropriate piece of lumber. She readjusted her pack and shoved a hunk of kindling beneath her arm. The tip of the mountain seemed to be wading through dark clouds as they slowly coalesced into a sheet of gray. Soon the peak disappeared altogether and no longer did the snow shimmer like a plane of white diamonds. Eileen chewed her lip and wondered about the gathering storm.

Before long the sun began its languid descent beyond the horizon, their sign to press forward. Eileen took her place behind Boromir as they formed a line to begin the first march to the Redhorn Gate. At first they faced only a low grade slope. The gentle incline had only a thin dusting of snow beneath their feet. They moved briskly, making excellent headway into their first march. Like any inexperienced mountaineer she quickly forgot her worries about the trek to the top of the pass...

Anon, the neat, gently sloping path mutated into a steep, gnarled farce of a trail. She found herself gasping in heavy breaths as they trudged to just the knees of the mountain. Without the light of the moon and stars the night grew perilously dark. The sky loomed above like a boundless tract of unblemished obsidian. She endeavored to evade the sharp rocks jutting from the wrecked path to no avail. "This is worse than being drunk," she muttered as she stumbled in a perpetual fight for balance.

"Don't talk about drinking," Pippin groaned, "I'd do anything for a pint of ale."

"That'd warm you up right quick," said Sam.

"Or a shot of whiskey," Eileen said.

"Maybe some rum," Merry added.

"And pipe full of weed," Pippin bemoaned.

"Might as well throw in a chicken dinner," Eileen supplied. Their words blew from their mouths in huffs and puffs.

"Enough of that," Gimli grumbled, "It is worse than torture listening to you lot talk about drinking and smoking."

"Don't forget the feasting," Eileen reminded him.

"When this is over you should have a drink with us, Eileen," Merry decided.

"Absolutely," Eileen agreed, "We'll have ale and whiskey and rum."

"And pipe-weed," Pippin added.

"Surely the lady doesn't smoke pipe-weed," Sam contended.

"I used to smoke," Eileen admitted, "I quit a few years back but I don't mind a puff every once and while when I'm drinking." Of course she recalled smoking tobacco rolled in paper, but she dismissed the inconsistency as a faulty remembrance.

"You'd love the Shire," Pippin said fondly, "We have all of those things – in abundance."

"If you carry on like this I'll knock your heads together!" Gimli threatened.

Floundering all the while, Eileen hastened her pace to step alongside Boromir. "I don't think he could reach my head if he tried," she whispered humorously.

He laughed but playfully warned, "Careful – what dwarves lack in height they make up for in fierce temper."

She brought her finger to her lips. "Shhhh..." she whispered, her voice trembling with suppressed laughter. He raised a brow and masked a smile. And then, after her long, arduous battle with the ground, Eileen finally lost. In a heart-stopping moment of panic she felt certain she'd get a mouthful of mountain. Boromir swiftly grabbed her by the arm, saving her the discomfiture of face-planting into a pile of sharp stone.

"Perhaps if you paid more mind to your footing than your jests, you would not stumble so," Boromir commented. He continued to hold her arm above her elbow in case she tripped again. The trail only worsened while they pressed on.

"It's probably just karma," she grunted.

"And what is karma?" Boromir asked.

"You know... what goes around comes around. If you act like an asshole the universe will deal it back to you – like this one time I was in a hurry and I didn't hold the door for someone walking behind me. The door slammed right in her face. Two steps later I tripped on only-God-knows-what. That time I didn't have someone to catch me and I totally fell on my face." Even in the darkness Eileen could see Boromir smiling. "Har har," she said dryly, "Don't you worry, one of these days when you slip up, karma will be right there waiting for you, too."

"Like a stone in my path?" Boromir teased.

"Like a stone in your path."

"And what of benevolence?" Boromir asked, "Does this karma of yours offer reward?"

"Yes," Eileen answered, "Maybe the universe has a reward for you for helping this stumbling mess hike half across Middle Earth."

"It'd best be a large one," Boromir said as Eileen's footsteps faltered again. Only perhaps it was not a rogue stone that tripped her up, but her wish to continue feeling his hand around her arm.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

The company plodded along until midnight when their path curved along a sheer cliff wall. Eileen watched as Frodo lifted his arm to see light flakes of snow piling atop his sleeve. It was not long before a full on snowstorm unleashed. The flakes fell wet and heavy and took no time at all to cover the company in a blanket of white. Gandalf halted before them. Between the unkempt trail, the abysmal darkness, and the onset of the snowstorm, it seemed best to pause for a time. (AN: The following is a direct conversation from the novel, rewritten here word for word. I try to avoid direct quotes but I needed the context. Again, no copyright infringement intended, I don't own anything, please don't sue me.)

"This is what I feared," Gandalf said, "What do you say now, Aragorn?"

"That I feared it too," Aragorn answered, "but less than other things. I knew the risk of snow, though it seldom falls heavily so far south, save high up in the mountains. But we are not high yet; we are still far down, where the paths are usually open all the winter."

"I wonder if this is a contrivance of the enemy," said Boromir. "They say in my land that he can govern the storms in the Mountains of Shadow that stand upon the borders of Mordor. He has strange powers and many allies."

"His arm has grown long indeed," said Gimli, "if he can draw snow down from the North to trouble us here three hundred leagues away."

"His arm has grown long," said Gandalf.

Against the bitter cold and swirling winds Eileen had let her hair down to keep her ears warm. Uninterrupted flurries of snow whipped against their faces and the flakes nipped at her skin. The further they walked the lower the temperature dropped. With chattering teeth she asked, "Is that true? Can Sauron really control the weather?"

"We should never underestimate the power of the enemy," Boromir said gravely, "It is as Aragorn said. A storm like this is not common so far south in the mountain. I can think of no other reason for this anomaly."

"What are we going to do?" she asked uneasily, "It sounds like Gandalf and Aragorn have been arguing about it... I'd been trusting that they knew what they were doing..."

"You can trust _me_," Boromir said, "When this path fails, our best course is the Gap of Rohan."

"Why don't we just turn around and go that way, then?" Eileen asked with confusion.

"We may," Boromir said, "For now we will rely upon Aragorn and Gandalf to guide us rightly, though I cannot fathom why they would refuse to Gap to begin with." She glanced to where Gandalf and Aragorn continued to debate their course. The hobbits huddled together against the cliff wall to keep warm. All the while Legolas stood atop the snow, completely impervious to both the cold and terrible gusts of wind. Try as he might, Boromir failed to appear as unbothered as the elf prince. Even if ever so slightly, the huge, boulder of a man shivered. Like Eileen his grim face had turned a faint shade of pink. Still, he stood with his back straight and his chin held high.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked. More than anything she hoped for the chance to huddle in close to him; exhausted or not, her affection only seemed to grow for the son of the Steward, especially when their journey roughened.

"Of course I'm cold," he grunted. He remained unmoved. It appeared as though he would not be taking any hints. With defeat she turned to walk away.

"I think... I'm going to go reminisce about ale and whiskey with the hobbits..." she mumbled dourly.

"Ale and whiskey?" he asked. She turned her head so he could see only her side profile.

"Yep."

"Do you actually enjoy them?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yep."

"I won't believe it until I see it," he said. She puffed a small laugh. Her breath turned to mist as it met the frigid mountain air.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

At long last the storm broke and the violent flurries faded into a wispy breeze. They continued marching through the night. Unfortunately, after only a short pause the storm returned with a vengeance. Imperious bursts of wind ever sought to drive them back. Worse than the winds were the harassing flakes they carried, swarming and biting like angry flies. As they climbed higher into the mountains even Boromir's energy seemed to fade. On several occasions since their departure from Rivendell she wondered if she could go on, or if she should have stayed behind, but she always felt secure so long as the others kept moving strong. Something about watching a man as mighty as Boromir stumble frightened her to the core. If he could grow so fatigued as to stumble, what did that mean for her? Hollin had been a dreary, chill place, but she could not remember ever feeling as cold as she had on that mountain. Her fingers, toes, and nearly all of her face lost feeling; uncontrollable tremors wracked her body without pause. Only t he hobbits fared worse than she.

"Lassie, what did you say about having preference for cold?" Gimli asked ruefully over the shrieking of the wind. Even the dwarf's stoutness waned at the advent of the storm.

"I take it back," she yielded through chattering teeth, "I take it back." She looked to the hobbits hoping they might chuckle or at least complain, but they said nothing at all. Their weary little faces drooped, all merriment crushed beneath the weight of the snowstorm. She fixed her eyes on the ground and began counting her steps, one after another, hoping that something, _anything_ would take her mind off the bitter cold.

Boromir halted and she bumbled into him. If he noticed he gave no indication. _Everyone_ stopped and that was when she heard the likeness of a voice echoing through the mountains. Rocks rained down on them from above, then massive boulders came crashing down around them. Fearfully she clung to Boromir, gripping his cloak tightly in her fists. She pressed her face firmly against his back. The susurrus voice of the mountain echoed across the mountainside like a restless spirit, laughing wickedly.

Too drained and frightened to focus, she did not hear the words exchanged between Boromir and the other members of the Fellowship. She wanted nothing more than to shut out the dreadful voices of the mountain. All she wanted to hear was Boromir's heartbeat, elevated as it was. Burying her face against his back and clutching at his cloak assuaged her fear. After a time she felt him gently pry her fist from his cloak and take her wrist in his hand. He carefully led her to the cliff wall where they were to take refuge from the stones and storm.

"Sit behind me," he directed, "Against the wall. I will block the wind." Eileen huddled sideways between the cliff wall and Boromir's back. She pulled her legs into her chest and rested her head against Boromir's shoulder. He could feel her intense shivering. Amongst the banks of snow and heaps of rock she seemed so small, even fragile, quaking like a terrified animal. A strange sensation built up in his chest, like a painful tightening. Hadn't he warned her of the danger? Why hadn't she just listened to him and stayed behind in Rivendell?

The others clustered alongside them. Gimli sat so close he could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He glanced up at her sadly. She saw his lips moving but didn't hear a sound. Had he said something? With vacant eyes she stared back at the dwarf.

"Don't you fade now, lassie," he said sternly. He scooted closer and said to Boromir, "She doesn't look well, the halflings fare even worse."

"Hold on," Boromir whispered to her. He placed his hand on her head and softly told her, "I won't let anything happen to you, just hold on." He peered over at the hobbits and discovered that Frodo was no longer in sight. In place of the hobbit sat a small heap of snow. "Gimli, make sure she stays here," Boromir said before standing up. This sent Eileen into a swivet. Her face twisted in confused panic but Gimli pulled her back.

"He's not going anywhere," Gimli promised.

Boromir reached down into the pile of snow and yanked Frodo up and out. "This will be the death of the Halflings and the girl," he called to Gandalf, "It is useless to sit here until the snow goes over our heads. We must do something to save ourselves." He looked down at the young woman shaking violently, staring up at him with desperation in her eyes. The pang in his chest intensified. "Gandalf," he repeated expectantly. The old wizard nodded and reached into his cloak. Gandalf pulled out a leathern flask; what the flask contained Eileen did not hear him say.

Boromir returned with the flask in hand. "Drink this," he instructed, offering it to her. Weakly she raised her hands to take it from him, but he saw that she did not have the strength to grasp it. "Here," he said, carefully bringing it up to her mouth. She managed to take a sip. He felt relieved to see the vigor returning to her eyes after a single swig. "One more," he directed. This time she took the flask from his hands. Her slight fingers felt like icicles against his skin.

The substance was strong and warmed her from gut to limb. "I feel better," she breathed, even smiled a little. "I don't think I've ever been this cold," she said weakly. A memory came to her, of a book she read in high school. An image of an old classroom and her English teacher Mr. Baldwin entered her mind. She thought of Jon Krakauer's novel, _Into Thin Air._ _Is this how it felt as they slowly froze to death?_ she wondered. Mr. Krakauer had not forgotten a single detail. A powerful gust kicked up and she winced against it. Again Boromir felt his chest constrict. The company might have found new strength from the _miruvor_, but the storm had lost none of its own.

"What do you say to fire?" Boromir asked, "The choice seems near now between fire and death, Gandalf. Doubtless we shall be hidden from all unfriendly eyes when the snow has covered us, but that will not help us." Gandalf agreed.

Though she had been weary and cold beyond comprehension, she never abandoned her piece of wood. Try as they might, not even Legolas or Gimli could start a fire amidst the snowstorm. It was only by Gandalf's magic that a fire bloomed, bursting into a brilliant nova of green and blue flames. The smallest tendrils stretched above Eileen's head. She watched the small tips of plasma separate from the mother pyre and glide into the air to disappear. The Fellowship enclosed the fire, warming their hands as the snow melted to slush at their feet. Their weary faces shone in the otherworldly glow of Gandalf's enchanted fire. Eileen stood as close to Boromir as he would allow and together they kept warm. A small part of her hoped the fire might slacken and give her an excuse to burrow against him.

"Are you warm?" he asked.

"Warm as I'm like to get," Eileen answered, "Are you?"

"I'm fine," he replied.

"Of course," Eileen said, "Nothing fazes you."

"Some things," Boromir answered. The state of the girl just a short while ago fazed him. When he saw his men in danger he feared for them, but watching her vitality dissolve before his very eyes shook the foundation of his strength. It made his heart _ache_, something he found deeply troubling on its own. He shoved the thought from his mind.

"That was really scary," Eileen admitted quietly, "And here I thought the worst thing that could happen was orcs or something. You can kill those at least, but how do you beat the cold?"

"You cannot," Boromir answered, "But you can endure it."

"Does it count when someone else has to save your ass?" Eileen asked.

"I should think so," he replied. He never thought he'd be so glad to hear her speak such foul language. It marked the return to her usual state. Whether or not he liked it, Eileen leaned against him, pressing her face against his chest. She wasn't sick or injured, but she was dangerously cold. Would it not be careless of him to refuse? Who there could say it was improper to keep warm when a deathly chill was upon them? To her astonishment he placed his arm around her. Surrounded by snow on that frigid night, standing upon the treacherous mountain path, she could not have felt more content.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

Their fire lasted the night. Come morning Eileen surveyed what the sun revealed – mounds of snow as tall as she now blocked the path they had taken up the mountain. Everyone had agreed that they would go no further but remained stumped about the path behind. (AN: Another quote, because I find the interaction between Legolas and Gandalf rather amusing.)

"If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you," suggested Legolas lightly. The storm had left him unbothered to say the least.

"If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us," answered Gandalf. "But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow."

"Well," said Boromir, "when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess." And so at Boromir's suggestion and with Aragorn's help, the two men began burrowing through the snow that covered their path. The company watched as the men made their way for a time. Legolas looked on with a smile.

"The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow – an Elf," said Legolas. Then looking to Gandalf he said, "Farewell! I go to find the Sun!"

"That is so bogus," Eileen grumbled as Legolas took off atop the snow.

"Do not begrudge an elf for being an elf," Gandalf said.

Eileen folded her arms and watched Legolas disappear beyond her sight. "Yea, I guess…" Eileen assented heavily. Anxiously she shifted her weight. Dark clouds hovered beyond, ever threatening to deliver a second assault. Boromir and Aragorn seemed only black specs enshrouded in white. "Should we go and help them?" Eileen asked unsurely.

"No, child, it would be best for you to wait here," Gandalf answered.

_oooooOOOOOOOOooooo_

The winds calmed and the storm dissipated, and in conjunction with a night spent warm by the fire, Eileen had regained much of her former energy. An hour passed and again a gentle snow began to fall. Eileen glanced up at the sky tiredly and said, "Give us a break, would you?"

"I second that..." Sam said gruffly, "I sure hope they come back soon before another storm comes by."

It seemed as though Legolas heard Sam's request, for he appeared only moments later with Boromir and Aragorn close behind. They had managed to create a path all the way down to where the snowfall came much lighter. Despite the good news, the hobbits remained seated on the ground, still exhausted from suffering the storm and cold. Lucky for them, Boromir offered to carry the hobbits down with Aragorn. Eileen had strength enough, and she so much wanted to be able to help. Besides, hobbits weighed little more than the children of Men.

"There's no need to go in trips, I can carry one of 'em," Eileen offered, putting on as stern a face as she could muster.

"What if you grow weary halfway down and drop him to tumble the rest of the way?" Boromir said, hoisting Pippin up on his back as if he weighed no more than a sack of feathers.

"Before you said I was strong for a woman. I won't drop him, now hop up," Eileen insisted, motioning to Merry.

"Let her so we might make our way already!" Gandalf huffed with impatience. Boromir began journeying along the path he made through the snow, widening it with his powerful arms as he went. Merry did not hesitate to take a free ride, uncaring whether or not it was a strong warrior or a young woman.

"You can wrap your arms about my neck if you need; it will probably keep us both warmer. But if your hands go any lower, I might grow weary and let you tumble the rest of the way," she warned with light humor in her voice.

"They won't," he said in a small, tired voice, too cold and exhausted to appreciate the jest. Eileen frowned and shifted him higher on her back. The trip up the mountains proved more harmful to the hobbits than she ever would have imagined. She felt greatly replenished from the fire and _miruvor_; she had expected the same for the hobbits...

She gingerly made her way down the path behind Aragorn and Boromir, determined not to stumble lest they both take a spill and bring the others tumbling down with them. When at last they reached the massive snowdrift at the bottom, Eileen feared Merry might slide out of her grip should she walk any further. She did not try to hide the heaving gasps she took once she set Merry down. He landed on his backside with a rough thud and grimaced, though he did not protest.

To her amazement, as soon as Boromir set Pippin down he immediately began walking back up the path to fetch poor Sam, left at the top for last. Despite her help, another trip had to be made. Eileen glanced at the light-hearted elf standing on top of the snow with the hint of a smile on his face. "If you're so cheerful, why didn't you bring Sam down?" Eileen asked through her labored breaths. He glanced at her a moment with bright, perceptive eyes but gave no reply. He went about his own business as usual.

"Elves..." she muttered, and only Merry heard, not too exhausted to crack the slightest of grins; a good sign.

Soon after, Boromir reappeared with Sam in tow, and behind him Gandalf and Gimli, mounted on the already burdened Bill. Moments later boulders tumbled from above, Caradras' last motion of ill-nature to block their path should they wish to attempt the pass again. Fearfully Eileen grabbed onto Merry, hoping to shield him from whatever else may come of the rock slide. Not else came and when she looked up, she realized that from their position they had not been in any danger at all.

Feeling silly she stood and dusted herself off and helped Merry to his feet. "Thanks anyway," he said, beginning to return to his usual self. The air already felt warmer than above and Eileen could sense the feeling creeping back into her appendages. Fatigued as she was, the girl was eager to move on and away from that evil mountain.

Boromir walked over to see how she fared; her cheeks were bright pink and her hair sat in tangles speckled with snow, but she stood on her own two feet and even offered a lazy smile. "I really do feel a lot better," she assured, seeing his concerned expression.

"I am sorry," he said regretfully, "It was not my intent to endanger you."

"I know," she said softly, "I don't think anyone intended for it to get so bad up there... but hey, we're not going back up, right?"

"No," he answered, "Once we've rested some Gandalf plans to call a council to decide where to go from here."

"Which way did you want to go, again?" Eileen asked.

"The Gap of Rohan," Boromir answered, "You have as much stake in our route as anyone. I would urge you to support my standpoint at the council. Perhaps you can convince the halflings."

"Yea, for sure. I got your back," she said grinning as she gently punched his shoulder. He glanced at the spot where she hit him then back at her.

"Why do you feel the need to punch me?" he asked.

"Oh, it's not like that hurt," Eileen snorted. "Did it?"

"Of course not."

"Well it's a masculine way of showing affection," Eileen answered, "Guys don't like getting all huggy and stuff, so you give 'em a little love punch instead. At least that's what my brothers and guy friends do."

"That was a 'love punch?'" he asked skeptically. He waited for her reply with a brow raised.

"...yes," she said uncertainly, "Stop looking at me like that." He shook his head and turned his face to hide a smile.

"As you say," he said.

* * *

By the way, I have to tell you guys that I have to go back to school starting August 26th. Wanna know something really neato about graduate school? They give you homework the week before class starts that is due the first day. So yea, I have homework to do... And apparently I must've had a small stroke because I agreed to join two committees and our peer review group. Then I have my thesis to work on this year... God help me. I just have to keep telling myself this is the _last _of the last year of school I will ever have to endure. *inner self snorts* Yea right, you'll go crawling back for your Ph.D. in a few years... *slaps inner self away*

But have hope! This fic will not die (and hopefully neither will I)! However I do ask that you be _empathetic_ to the fact that I have a lot on my plate for the next nine months. Updating will probably slow down, but I assure you, it will not stop. Writing this fanfic is cathartic for me. I hope that you have all enjoyed your summer and are ready for the oncoming school year! Annnnd remember, mama loves reviews! *wink wink nudge nudge*


	9. Thoughts Dirtier Than a Warg

Chapter VIII - Thoughts Dirtier Than a Warg

AN: I only realized after writing this that not everyone is familiar with Punnet squares. The point is, if you don't know what a punnet square is or how dominant/recessive traits work, you might be a little confused towards the end of the chapter. Who knows, maybe I'm the only person who thinks shit like that is fascinating but... anyways, it made for an interesting interaction. Wikipedia explains it pretty well if you'd like more information about it or if you find it confusing. Anyhow...

* * *

Caradhras defeated them and doubtless a second attempt would be just as futile – the mountain made it very clear that passage would not be granted. As such, a new route had to be decided upon and so Gandalf called a council. They had few options: turn back, which appealed only to the halflings, take the Gap of Rohan at Boromir's suggestion, or go through the mines of Moria as recommended by Gandalf. The discussion grew progressively heated as Gandalf and Boromir argued back and forth. At times Eileen wondered if she should offer support to Boromir but she couldn't find an appropriate moment to interject. As the discussion went on, she felt less and less sure of what to do or say. She felt stupid and insignificant; who was she to take part in their discussion? She couldn't even remember where she lived, how could she be expected to provide meaningful input in a debate between Gandalf the Gray, the son of the Steward of Gondor, and all the others?

"I should not go through Moria unless all the company is against me. Eileen, what do you think of this matter?" Boromir asked. The tone of his voice alone conveyed the command behind his words. _Convince them_, he ordered. Ever she longed to gaze into his eyes, but now as she stared back, his gray irises seemed cold and wrought of stone.

Eileen sighed heavily and her eyes fell to the ground. She knew what he expected her to say but she could not bring herself to do it. She lifted her face and began speaking. "After listening to what everyone had to say, I realize this is a decision that cannot be made lightly. I'm inclined to agree with Boromir and argue for the Gap of Rohan because he's my friend, but truthfully I don't know much about what that would entail or the consequences of such a decision. As to Moria, I also have to admit my ignorance. It doesn't sound very appealing, but how can I claim to fully comprehend the repercussions for going there when I know so little? I can't argue for or against either route. I have to acknowledge both my bias and ignorance and... I feel that they impede my ability to offer an informed opinion on the matter. I think it would be best for me to retract my vote and leave the decision up to the rest of you." Boromir grimaced and shook his head. She refused to meet his eyes, knowing full well they would be filled with disappointment.

The council fell silent and Gandalf eyed her with rapt fascination. The hobbits exchanged thoughtful glances. "I must admit my surprise, my dear girl," Gandalf said at length, "That was no easy thing to confess. Though it does not put us any closer to ending our debate…"

Ultimately Boromir refused to yield. He offered Eileen a final, cool glance then asked, "And what do Legolas and the little folk say? The Ring-bearer's voice surely should be heard?"

"I do not wish to go to Moria," Legolas said grudgingly. For the duration of the discussion the Elf-prince said very little and for the first time appeared less than pleased. The hobbits remained silent and looked to Frodo for guidance. In their hearts they wished to return to Rivendell and hoped Frodo would agree. After the nearly disastrous trip through the mountains Eileen couldn't help but hope for the same... if they turned back, she and Boromir could make their way to Gondor via the Gap of Rohan together. Without the Ringbearer under their guardianship, surely the danger would lessen.

"I do not wish to go," he said; "But neither do I wish to refuse the advice of Gandalf. I beg that there should be no vote, until we have slept on it. Gandalf will get votes easier in the light of the morning than in this cold gloom. How the wind howls!"

And that was when Eileen heard a sound that pierced her heart worse than Boromir's glowering face. It was awful and unlike anything else she had heard. The mountain winds of Caradhras were cold and cruel, but they did not chill her bones the way the wolf howls did in that moment. "What was that...?" she asked.

"How the wind howls! It is howling with wolf-voices. The Wargs have come west of the Mountains!" Aragorn cried, leaping to his feet.

The wolves made the strongest and final argument for the Mines. The company decided that they would set out for Moria at first light, but for the time being they took refuge on a short hill with a crown of standing boulders. Any chance they had of keeping hidden was already lost, so they made an enormous fire in the center.

Although their failed attempt at the mountain left her weary, Eileen refused sleep. Everywhere she looked, she saw, or at least believed she saw, glowing red eyes creeping up the sides of the hill. She took a seat next to Boromir by the fire. Each stretch of their journey grew more dangerous and so did her apprehension grow. More than anything she wanted the comfort of Boromir's assuring words and his forgiveness for her transgression earlier that day. Instead he stared into the flames and refused to acknowledge her presence.

"I understand why you're mad," Eileen said quietly, "And I'm sorry." He did not give her the slightest of glances. "I wish you would forgive me," she tried, "I just did what I thought was right." He peered at her from the corner of his eye but remained silent. "I'm starting to wonder if you're going to let the wargs eat me for dinner..." she said with dejection.

"You know I would not let that happen," he said at last.

"Does that mean you forgive me?" Eileen asked hopefully.

"I asked you a small favor and you could not acquiesce?" he asked in a low voice, "Of course nobody expected you to fully understand our circumstance, but I had at least expected you to _trust me_. You claimed that you wanted the rest of us to make this decision, but did you not trust _my_ judgment?"

"I didn't mean to insult you..." Eileen replied quietly.

"Not only did you insult me, but you did so in front of the rest of our company. They already mistrust me, now it will be tenfold as even my own ward is wary of my judgment," he answered bitterly.

"Come _on_, you know if I supported you everyone would know I just did it because you told me to," Eileen argued, "It wouldn't have had any bearing anyways. And it's not like it matters now, we _have _to go through Moria."

"At least they would have known that you _trust _me," Boromir retorted.

"Believe it or not, what I said is only going to help you down the line," Eileen argued, "They'll know I'm not some idiot who blindly follows whatever someone tells me. At least now when I give an opinion they'll take me seriously. Or had you not considered that?" The last of her words were spoken with unrestrained harshness and left her mouth before she could stop herself.

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner," Boromir said angrily, "Leave me, I cannot bear the sight of you."

"Uh-oh, she said something reasonable! Now my argument doesn't make sense anymore! Better _duck_ out of it before I have to admit that I'm wrong!" Eileen mocked, deepening her voice as if to mimic Boromir. She stalked away to the other side of camp. She couldn't tell if her heart pounded because of their argument or the danger encroaching on their camp. She stood at the edge of the fire's light and scanned the hillside. The woods seemed filled with silent unrest. The encircling trees flickered with the orange glow of the fire, making sight beyond nearly impossible. Behind the blushing trees hung a curtain of blackness born of the starless, moonless night. Within that blackness the wargs prowled, waiting for the opportune moment to attack.

Here and there she saw the faint glimmer of fire reflected off large, sharp eyes. A growing anxiety welled inside and made her stomach uncomfortable. She swallowed back the saliva building up in her mouth. She peered down at her hands and realized they trembled. Her heart slammed against her breastplate and she wondered if she would get sick. She reached back and glided her unsteady fingers across the feathers of an arrow, expecting to find some level of comfort. The notion of firing an arrow only made her stomach roil. She pulled in a quivering breath and dropped her arms to her sides.

"Eileen, come away from the woods," Legolas said uneasily. She hadn't heard him approach and startled to find him standing beside her. "Come," he repeated, taking her by the arm and leading her towards the bonfire. He refused to take his eyes off the verge of the woods while they walked.

"What do you see?" she asked.

"They have enclosed our camp," Legolas answered, "They may strike any moment. Your quarrel with Boromir was rather untimely."

"You heard?" Eileen asked.

"We all heard the end of it to say the least," he answered. She could feel the tingle of burning embarrassment rise to her cheeks. "Under other circumstances I might have found it quite humorous," Legolas said offhandedly. Before she could protest she saw a small glint of alarm reach his eyes.

Not a moment later she heard a shuddering howl break the enemy's long silence. Eileen's heart dropped to her stomach and she wondered if she might truly vomit. She scrambled back to where Boromir stood by the fire, uncaring whether or not he was mad at her. The edges of her sight became fuzzy and she began to feel faint. Her breaths came short and quick. _What the fuck am I doing here?_

Boromir loosened his sword from his scabbard and stood firm. Eileen's hand drifted to the hilt of her dagger and she clutched the handle until her knuckles turned white. _What in the actual fuck am I doing here?_ And then she looked to Boromir. However much anxiety she felt he equaled in composure. "Stop your trembling," he said firmly, "If you so badly wanted to come and fight, ready your bow."

The only thing more powerful than her fear was her pride. Though her hands trembled and her mind buzzed with dread and doubt, she pulled her bow over her head. Before she could notch an arrow, Gandalf cried out a threat to the howling beast. An instant later a massive warg leapt into their circle snarling. Legolas sent an arrow through the creature's throat and it crumpled to the ground before Gandalf's feet. The eyes all but disappeared, and the night grew silent once more.

"They'll be back," Boromir said, still gripping the hilt of his sword. He turned to see a very pale and wobbly Eileen. "Go and stand with the little folk," he directed. She nodded and quickly made her way over to where the hobbits stood back to back with their swords drawn.

"It's good to have you near," Pippin said, "You can shoot a _bow_."

"I don't know about that," she said, her voice wavering.

"I've seen you do it," Pippin insisted, "You may not always get the bullseye, but you hit your target."

"I don't feel very good," she said weakly. Her stomach churned but she would not let herself throw up in front of the others. Thinking back at her time in Rivendell she realized she had been overly romanticizing the quest. She imagined herself loosing arrows in the heat of battle like an ace archer, taking out countless enemies with a smirk on her face while dark blood splattered her face. She would stand tall next to Boromir and they would fight together and afterwards he'd sweep her off her feet with a long, passionate kiss… _God I'm a fucking idiot, _she thought.

"Don't fret, m'lady," Sam said gently, "Gandalf's not gonna be outdone by a couple of wolves, that's a certainty."

She nodded and took a deep breath. She watched Boromir standing confidently with his hand at his sword ready for the next assault. Beside him stood Aragorn, also prepared for the impending attack. Legolas still had his bowstring drawn with an arrow notched and Gimli stood at the ready with his axe. At least they would be able to fulfill the roles of her fantasizing, less the long passionate kiss of course.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself. She brought forth an arrow from her quiver and notched. Her hands quaked so fiercely she could hardly believe they managed to grip her weapon at all. She waited to draw her bowstring, knowing full well she could not hold for long. _I'm an idiot but I have to try, _she thought adamantly.

"Alright!" Merry cheered quietly. She hoped that their faith in her was well-placed and not without warrant. _I can't let them down_. She mustered what courage she had and took a deep breath.

As expected, the wolves returned in stealth. They had encircled the hill so their attack came from all angles. When the battle started Gandalf ordered the company to toss more kindling into the fire and the flames leapt as high as the trees. Eileen drew her bowstring but the growing chaos made it difficult to concentrate; the shouts of the others as they fought, the snarls and howls from the wolves, the great heat and flickering of the enormous flames of their pyre. One moment she would feel ready to loose an arrow, but then her quarry would dash here or there and she would miss the shot before even firing._ Stop your trembling,_ said Boromir's voice in her head. How on Earth could she match his resolve in the midst of all this anarchy? During her time in Rivendell, Eileen learned that not only was Boromir the Son of the Steward of Gondor, but a highly renowned warrior. The stories didn't do his skill justice by half. With a single stroke of his sword he could hew the head of warg from its shoulders. His every movement played out like an adroitly choreographed dance. Every so often she would glance at him as he fought...

But then, to her great shock and horror, a warg managed to break through the Fellowship's defenses. The muscled, mutated wolf-like creature sprang towards them with a ferocious snarl. Before Eileen's eyes the world seemed to warp and slow, growing deafeningly silent all at once. The defiant creature seemed to float in midair as if someone had pressed pause on life itself. It hovered before her with its maw rolled back to reveal a row of razor sharp teeth, and its claws, outstretched before him, appeared just as sharp. The girl could not breathe, could not swallow, could hardly even comprehend the situation, but her finger's released her bowstring at last.

The silence caved in on itself and time rapidly returned to it's natural pace. With an agonized yelp the warg went barreling into Eileen. Dead as it was from Eileen's arrow now lodged in its brutish head, the momentum from the leap allowed the creature to exact revenge from beyond. The weight of its enormous body knocked Eileen onto her back and pinned her to the ground. Boromir watched in horror as the scene unfolded. He dashed from the edge of the battle towards the girl and the halflings. Only when he reached them did he realize the beast had been slain. Merry and Pippin were already trying to free Eileen from beneath the warg, throwing their shoulders into his massive form to no avail. Boromir glanced back at the battle and knew he needed to aid the girl quickly. He ordered the hobbits to step aside and stay close to Gandalf by the fire.

When he looked down at the girl he could see that her body heaved as though she were sobbing. He feared the worst and made no hesitation to shove the monstrous wolf off her. Upon closer inspection he realized she was not crying but laughing. "Can you stand?" he asked urgently, glancing back at the battle anxiously. "Are you hurt?"

"I dunno," she answered, feeling giddy and dazed from the adrenaline of the attack and her subsequent kill. For a moment the pandemonium did not faze her.

"You must get up if you can," Boromir urged holding his hand out for her. She took it and allowed Boromir to yank her to her feet. In that moment she realized that something did, in fact, hurt, and she winced to stand on her left leg.

Boromir went to catch her but she raised her hands. "I'll be fine," she said with a pained smirk. Boromir also noticed a long tear in her tunic where the warg's claws must have caught the fabric during the fall. Blood remained to be seen beneath but he was torn between returning to the battle and helping the girl. Though the others did well to fend off the onslaught of wargs, the battle was far from over. With Boromir at her side and adrenaline pumping through her veins Eileen's fear began to dissolve. He regarded her with concern but his eyes kept darting back to the skirmish. The shouts and rumbling growls from the battle rang in Eileen's ears. "Go fight," Eileen said, "I'll be fine." He paused only a moment before nodding and he rejoined the others. She bent to retrieve her bow and stood with her weight on the other leg. "Fucker," she muttered as looked down at the slain warg. She spat. Limping slightly she made her way towards the hobbits as quickly as her leg would allow.

When she reached the hobbits she notched another arrow. With the ignition of her newfound, adrenaline-fueled resolve part of her hoped another warg might break through so that she could send him into the afterlife. The other part of her, perhaps the more reasonable part, hoped beyond hope that the battle would end sooner rather than late. A shooting pain ran up her ankle whenever she put pressure on it and she could feel a dull burning sensation along her torso. The hobbits eyed her but said nothing while the fight lasted.

Soon Gandalf spread their fire across the surrounding treetops so that all was bathed in orange radiance. Legolas sent his arrows through the flames and into the flesh of their enemies who subsequently burst aflame. Shortly thereafter, as swift as they came, the wargs retreated into the woods whimpering in defeat.

For the time being they were saved. As the woods grew quiet and only the crackle of their fire could be heard, Eileen felt someone tap her forearm. She glanced back to find Sam at her side. "Thank you, m'lady," he said bashfully, "For saving Frodo and the lads. And me, of course."

Eileen smiled weakly and saw that the all the haflings were looking at her gratefully. "I knew you could shoot," Pippin boasted, as if his knowing had ultimately saved them. Eileen nodded but her smile grew fainter. The color drained from her face. Slowly she began walking towards Boromir, favoring her right leg despite her efforts to conceal the stabbing pain in her ankle. He met her halfway.

"Are you alright?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"I'm fine," she answered all the confidence she could muster. Then without warning her stomach roiled. There was nothing she could do to stop what happened next. She turned away, hunched over, and retched. Boromir looked away but placed a hand on her back. He waited patiently for the girl to finish emptying her stomach. She vomited twice more before her body stopped heaving.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Please don't tease me," she said meekly.

"I am not teasing you," he said gently.

"...I think so," she answered, "I'm sorry."

"You needn't apologize. It is a common reaction," he said. "Here," he said, offering his waterskin.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Take it," he insisted. She filled a cupped hand with water and wiped her mouth before taking a long swig. "Not so quickly, you don't want to vomit again," Boromir said as he took the waterskin from her. He could see that some color return to her face. Specs of dark blood sat plastered to her forehead, nose, and cheeks. She smiled a little.

Boromir led her back towards the fire and made her sit down. "You need to drink, but do so slowly," he said handing the waterskin back. He watched her take a few shy sips and try to wipe the blood of her first kill from her face. The image of her close call kept replaying in his mind... she had been just inches from death, but somehow she managed to save herself and possibly the halflings as well. Likely the shot was made by chance, but chance or no, she at least at the competence to take the shot. She could have left her bow at her back, she could have cowered behind the hobbits or turned to run, but she didn't. At the very least he was impressed by her will to _try _and fight.

By now the girl's efforts to swab her face made matters worse. A dark smear spanned the length of her left cheek. She stared down at her hands sullied with the same black blood. For a moment he worried she would vomit again. "I lucked out, didn't I?" she said at length.

"How do you mean?" asked Boromir.

"It was a fluke making that shot," she said, "I don't know what I'm doing at all."

"That may be the case," Boromir replied, "But that is not what matters. What matters is that you acted when you needed to. I have seen braver men falter under the same circumstances and die because of it." The open praise clearly flattered the girl and she withdrew her glance. She huffed a bashful laugh and shook her head. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder like he might a new recruit and said, "Luck or no, you did well today."

"Yea... I _did_ get that sonofabitch," Eileen said contently. As usual, curse words rolled off her tongue as easily as sweet ones. She offered a lazy half grin that suited her bloodied face and foul speech. Like her freckles and sunburn he found the subtle lack of femininity somewhat charming, even refreshing to some extent. Although, he found it fairly perplexing to interact with someone who somehow reminded him of a young soldier and at the same time, pleased his eye in the strangest way. Then he remembered her injury and a glimpsed of the rip in her tunic.

"How bad are your injuries?" he asked.

"Not bad, this is just a scratch," Eileen said, folding her arms across her torso.

"Wargs are filthy creatures, you should wash it," he said.

"It can't be the bad… can it?" Eileen replied.

"Let me see," he sighed. She frowned. "Well?"

"What... well, am I supposed to do, take my shirt off?" she huffed.

"The tear in your clothing will suffice," he said with exasperation, "Now come here."

Gingerly she stood and stepped close enough so that he might inspect her wound through the rip in her clothing. The beast's sharp claws cut through several layers of fabric before digging into her skin. He lifted his hand to push the cloth aside to get a better look. His fingertips grazed her skin as he did so and she jerked away with an involuntary giggle. He drew his hands away and looked at her flatly.

"What do you want from me? I'm ticklish, okay?" she said still fending off her giggles.

"Someone will think this indecent," he said in a hushed voice.

"It's only indecent if your _thoughts_ are indecent," Eileen whispered with a snarky smile. If his thoughts had been pure before, the mere mention of indecency sent a flash of crude images into his mind. He told himself it was because it had been well over a year since he last bedded a woman and he was only a man, after all... _Surely_ it had nothing to do with the girl. She was covered in warg blood and reminded her of his men, for the Valar's sake. He masked his inner thoughts with a dry stare before attending to the issue at hand. She burst out laughing when his fingers lightly brushed against her stomach again. As his fingertips met her skin he found himself surprised at the softness. He wondered if the rest of her skin would be as soft as her stomach. Beneath all the grime she _was_ still a woman. More lewd thoughts infiltrated his mind. Quickly he examined the scrapes and pulled his hands back.

As she insisted, the wounds were fairly superficial, though no less susceptible to infection. "Wash it," he said, "I'd do it for you but I fear you'd have a fit." Part of him feared to assist her should his mind drift back to the gutter.

"That's probably true," she admitted with faint amusement. She sat back down next to Boromir.

"Go on, then," he said impatiently. He was eager to be out of her presence, beginning to feel uncomfortable with himself for have delved into thoughts of her unclothed... _This is why you cannot bring a woman on a quest... _he thought ruefully.

Her shoulders shrank. She was loath to stand as her ankle still throbbed from twisting it when she was toppled by the warg. She sought to hide the small hurt in fear that Boromir might take excessive measures to prevent her from walking on a bad ankle. It was lame enough that she was practically useless in battle (despite all her practicing), but to slow the company when they needed haste more than anything was an unbearable notion. At length she stood and took care not to favor her right leg too obviously. She found her pack and retrieved all she would need to wash the faint gash. Another small lesson Boromir taught her back in Rivendell after the incident with her bow was how to clean a wound. When she finished she returned to the fire...

For the first time in a while her mind drifted back to her "dream" of the Dark Lord. She considered the fate she scarcely dodged, the way her skin melted off her flesh as the blaze consumed her. The fire licked at the night air and a gentle breeze bent the flames towards the girl. The orange and yellow tendrils seemed to grasp at her like thin, twisting fingers. Suddenly she felt uncomfortably warm. Boromir was quiet and she could not find words for him... battles and wounds were an easy, necessary topic. Now that things had settled she could only think of their argument, a subject she was not willing to breach in that moment. Boromir spent his energy trying to erase his perverse thoughts instead of conversing with the girl. She wandered away from the fire and found herself lifting a twig to trace figures in the dirt. She wrote her name, etched a few hearts and stars then absently started creating algebraic equations. Half of them she could not solve. Soon she began drawing circles and squares when she thought to draw a large square with four squares inside. She began writing letters above the boxes...

"Why are you sitting all by yourself?" asked Merry.

"I wanted to think," she answered.

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned.

"I don't know... when I feel anxious I like escape in my head. I think about stuff I'm interested in... even though other people might think them asinine. Like... this," Eileen said, motioning to her etchings with the stick.

"What is it?" Merry asked.

"It's called a punnet square. You can use to it estimate the chances of certain hereditary outcomes," Eileen explained.

"How does that even work?" Merry wondered aloud.

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how simple it is. The first thing you have to understand is that traits can be classified as either dominant or recessive – of course there are plenty of traits that are influenced by all kinds of factors and stuff, but I'm not a geneticist – I just have a basic understanding. But anyways, that's not the point, the point is-"

"Dominant or recessive," Merry said, taking a seat next to the girl. She was surprised at the easiness of his attention.

"Yea," she said with a softness borne of both gladness and mild surprise. "Don't try to over think it; it's really just like it sounds. A dominant trait is one that... well dominates other traits. When a dominant trait is present amidst recessive traits, only the dominant trait will express itself – for me the easiest way to think about this is with eye color. Brown eyes are a dominant trait. I'm sure you've noticed that brown eyes are really common whereas blue are a bit rarer."

"I suppose that's true," he conceded. Then he added as an afterthought, "But it's more common in some families."

"There's a reason for that! But we'll get to that later," Eileen said with a growing excitement, "You see, you can carry the genes for both brown and blue eyes."

"Genes?" Merry questioned.

"They're like the schematics for making people," Eileen answered, trying to explain the concept as she might to a child. He stared at her blankly. "You know, instructions." By this point her explanation had gained the attention of other members of the Fellowship. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't long before Pippin joined his other half in listening to Eileen's increasingly bizarre lecture. Gandalf listened from his place at the other side of the fire. Though her terminology did not match what he had learned, the underlying concept sounded similar.

"People instructions," Pippin remarked as he seated himself next to Merry.

"Just trust me, okay?" Eileen said.

"And where are these genes?" Pippin questioned.

"In your DNA," Eileen answered, and before Pippin could breathe the first syllable of his next questions she explained, "Which are located in every single cell in your body – and a cell is the smallest unit of life that can be considered 'alive.'" The words tumbled out of her mouth as her recollections of 6th grade biology sharpened. "You can see them under a microscope," Eileen said matter-of-factly.

Gandalf interrupted at last. "How is it that you've learned of such things?"

Her face went blank. She peered down at the ground and tried to fill in the context surrounding the knowledge. "School?" she tried.

"You've had much schooling?" Boromir asked from his place by the fire, looking from Gandalf to Eileen. A well educated girl could only mean she came from a family that was well-off to say the least. Perhaps she wasn't a peasant after all but the daughter of a noble house. He thought back to his history and the names of the many great families of Gondor. He had met most of them or at least communicated with them through letters... yet he could not recall any noble girl named "Eileen," though. Then again, it had been some time since he'd kept up with the noble houses, busy with the war and all... If her situation wasn't vexing enough already, it was now.

The girl leaned back as she thought about Boromir's question. "Tons," she said in a heavy huff, "I've had schooling from the time I was little until... even now."

"I want to hear about punnet squares," Merry broke in.

"Anyways, let's get back to brown and blue eyes," Eileen said, "Using a punnet square, you can you use capital and lowercase letters to represent dominant and recessive traits, respectively. We'll use a B to represent brown eyes and a b to represent blue... now, since we have two parents, we can assume that offspring will acquire one trait from each. That means we can have a combination of BB or Bb, both resulting in brown eyes, or bb, which would result in blue eyes. The BB means you only have the genes for brown eyes. Therefore you can only pass brown eyes unto your children. Now, if you have Bb you will have brown eyes but you can still pass on blue eyes. See what I'm saying about dominant and recessive? Blue can lie dormant while brown goes on expressing itself, but blue eyes can still be passed down to children. That's where my punnet square comes in handy..."

Eileen re-drew her square with four smaller squares within. At the top of the square, she wrote a letter above each smaller square (Bb) and did the same along the side (Bb). "We'll say the letters on the top represent the father and along the side, the mother. That means each of them can either give a B or a b. You use these squares to figure out all the possible combinations." She began filling out the squares accordingly. "So, we'd get one BB, two Bb, and one bb. You can think of it like chance by this point – 75% for brown eyes and 25% for blue eyes. Does... does that make sense?" Eileen asked timidly as she realized more eyes had gathered to watch her demonstration.

"Do it again..." Pippin said.

"Alright... let's say," Eileen said, glancing up at the surrounding people, "Aragorn and Legolas were to have a kid."

"They're both _male_!" Pippin gasped. Eileen smiled as a jest came to mind.

"Is that so? All this time I thought Legolas was a girl," Eileen said drolly, "He's got such pretty hair, you know." The small comment was enough to elicit a hearty laugh from the dwarf. Boromir rather enjoyed the jest as well and laughed, though not quite so loudly as Gimli. Aragorn hid a smile from his elven companion whose face twisted with indignation. When Gimli found his composure Eileen went on, "So anyways, Aragorn and Legolas..."

"No," Merry interjected, "You can't use two men. Use yourself, you're a girl."

"Oh fine," Eileen sighed. "I have hazel eyes... we'll just call it green and make it recessive so I'd gg and..." she said as she began writing the letters along the side of the box.

"_Boromir_ has blue eyes," Pippin supplied devilishly. Eileen never regretted having confessed her feelings to Pippin more than that night. She nearly dropped the stick in her hand, startled and mortified at the warm sensation reaching her cheeks. She kept her head down and began writing GG at the top of the box. "...So yea, let's say I have green eyes and... Boromir has _gray _eyes..." she corrected quietly.

"And if you had children," Pippin went on.

"We'll pretend gray is dominant..." she muttered. Quickly she filled in all the inner squares with Gg then hastily explained, "The combinations are all going to be Gg, so that means there is a 100% chance for grey eyes."

"Wait, how do you know Boromir would be GG?" Pippin asked, rather enjoying the show he made for himself.

Eileen swallowed and sheepishly looked up at Boromir, who as she feared, had joined the others for her demonstration. She couldn't read his face – was he amused? Did he see her flustered reaction? Or was he indifferent? "I _don't_ know that, I was just guessing for the sake of an example" she replied. She erased her sketches with her hand and said, "In actuality, both hazel and grey eyes are complex traits, influenced by more than one gene at the same time so they're much more difficult to predict than brown or blue eyes."

"So if you had children what color eyes _would_ they have?" Pippin pressed. His final comment dismantled whatever control she'd maintained over her temper.

"Fuck if I know," Eileen grunted with agitation. She stood and dusted herself off. "Obviously you missed my point completely." She pushed her way past Merry and Pippin, eager to remove herself from the embarrassing situation. She wished the sun would rise already so they could begin the march to Moria. She plopped her butt on the ground beside the fire and pulled her knees to her chest. She didn't watch as the onlookers disbanded from her demonstration area. Pippin scurried to her and sat down beside her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to make you mad."

"Come on, dude, that was super bogus," she grumbled.

"I only understood half of what you said," he said with a cheeky smile.

"My friend, your actions were less than kind," she clarified.

"I couldn't help it," he insisted. When she peered at him from the corner of her eye she could see the remorse in his face. Anyone else and they might have had to work harder to earn her pardon.

"Alright, I forgive you," she breathed, "I would really appreciate it if you could hold back in the future."

"I will," he said. His faced brightened as he looked to the Eastern sky, "The sun's coming out!" Between the trees Eileen watched as the rising sliver of sun painted the sky in mauve and gold. Members of the company had already begun making preparations to head out.

"Thank goodness," she sighed.

"You know what that means, don't you?" he said cheerfully. They exchanged looks and at the same time said, "Breakfast!"

* * *

Again, sorry if the Punnet Square stuff was difficult to understand. I realize it may not be 100% accurate but I wanted to write everything from memory to make it more authentic. Anyways, hopefully the next chapter won't be so long in the making. If it comes to it, I'll just post shorter chapters so at least you won't be left hanging for weeks at a time. Thanks for all the new followers and favorites, it really makes my day!


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